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RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 


WORKS  BY  IAN  MACLAREN 


BESIDE    THE    BONNIE    BRIER    BUSH 

THE    DAYS   OF    AULD    LANG    SYNE 

A    DOCTOR    OF    THE    OLD    SCHOOL 
KATE    CARNEGIE 
AFTERWARDS 

THE    UPPER    ROOM 

THE    MIND    OF    THE    MASTER 
THE   CURE   OF    SOULS 
COMPANIONS   OF    THE    SORROWFUL    WAY 
THE    potter's    wheel 

THE    IAN    MACLAREN   YEAR   BOOK 
RABBI    SAUNDERSON 


THE    SUDDENNESS   OF    HIS   FALL 


Copyriglit,  isn.',,  1896, 
By  John  Watson. 


Copyright,  189G, 
By  Dodi),  Mead  axd  Companv 


3^ 


TO 

MRS.   WILLIAMSON 

OF    GLENOGIL 

WHO   HAS    INHERITED   THE   GIFT   OF 

WITTY    SPEECH 

AND    HAS   LAID    IT    OUT   AT    USURY    TO    THE 

JOY    OF    HER    FRIENDS    AND   THE 

GLADDENING    OF   LIFE. 


PUBLISHERS'  NOTE. 


The  character  of  Rabbi  Saunderson  was  so  dis- 
tinctive a  feature  of  "  Kate  Carnegie  "  that  it  has 
been  thought  best  to  extract  from  that  story 
and  to  print  by  themselves  the  chapters  relating 
to  him. 


CONTENTS. 


A  Supra-Lapsarian 

KiLBOGiE  Manse 

The  Rabbi  as  Confessor 

The  Fear  of  God  . 

The  Wounds  of  a  Friend 

Light  at  Eventide 


PAGE 

13 

55 

87 

115 

151 

191 


IX 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


t 

The  suddenness  of  his  fall  .  .  Frontispiece 
He  put  Jamie's  ecclesiastical  history  into  a 

state  of  thorough  repair  ...       17 

The  farmers  carted  the  new  minister's  furni- 
ture from  the  nearest  railway  station  .  41 
Searching  for  a  lost  note  ....  67 
"Some  suitable   sum  for  our  brother  here 

who  is  passing  through  adversity "  .  91 
' '  We  shall  not  meet  again  in  this  world  "  .  97 
When  Carmichael  gave  him  the  cup  in  the 

sacrament 123 

"  Shall  ...  not  ...  the  ..   .  Judge  .  .    . 

of  all  the  earth  .  .  .  do  .  .  .  right  ? "  .  141 
"  You  have  spoken  tome  like  a  father:  surely 

that  is  enough  " 161 

Then  arose  a  self-made  man  .        .        .183 

He  watched  the  dispersion  of  his  potatoes 

with  dismay ^95 

He  signed  for  her  hand,  which  he  kept  to 

the  end 221 


A  SUPRA-LAPSARIAN. 


l^ABBI   SAUNDERSON. 


A  SUPRA-LAPSARIAN. 

JEREMIAH  SAUNDERSON  had  re- 
mained in  the  low  estate  of  a  "  pro- 
bationer "  for  twelve  years  after  he  left 
the  Divinity  Hall,  where  he  was  reported 
so  great  a  scholar  that  the  Professor  of 
Apologetics  spoke  to  him  deprecatingly, 
and  the  Professor  of  Dogmatics  openly 
consulted  him  on  obscure  writers.  He 
had  wooed  twenty-three  congregations 
in  vain,  from  churches  in  the  black  coun- 
try, where  the  colliers  rose  in  squares  of 
twenty,  and  went  out  without  ceremony, 
to  suburban  places  of  worship,  where  the 


14  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

beadle,  after  due  consideration  of  the 
sermon,  would  take  up  the  afternoon  no- 
tices and  ask  that  they  be  read  at  once 
for  purposes  of  utility,  which  that  un- 
flinching functionary  stated  to  the  minis- 
ter with  accuracy  and  much  faithfulness. 
Vacant  congregations  desiring  a  list  of 
candidates  made  one  exception,  and 
prayed  that  Jeremiah  should  not  be  let 
loose  upon  them,  till  at  last  it  came  home 
to  the  unfortunate  scholar  himself  that 
he  was  an  ofifense  and  a  by-word.  He 
began  to  dread  the  ordeal  of  giving  his 
name,  and,  as  is  still  told,  declared  to  a 
household,  living  in  the  fat  wheatlands 
and  without  any  imagination,  that  he 
was  called  Magor  Missabib.  When  a 
stranger  makes  a  statement  of  this  kind 
to  his  host  with  a  sad  seriousness,  no  one 
judges  it  expedient  to  offer  any  remark; 
but  it  was  skillfully  arranged  that  Missa- 


A   SUPRA-LAPSARIAN.  15 

bib's  door  should  be  locked  from  the 
outside,  and  one  member  of  the  house- 
hold sat  up  all  night.  The  sermon  next 
day  did  not  tend  to  confidence — having 
seven' quotations  in  unknown  tongues — 
and  the  attitude  of  the  congregation  was 
one  of  alert  vigilance;  but  no  one  gave 
any  outward  sign  of  uneasiness,  and  six 
able-bodied  men,  collected  in  a  pew  be- 
low the  pulpit,  knew  their  duty  in  an 
emergency. 

Saunderson's  election  to  the  Free 
Church  of  Kilbogie  was  therefore  an 
event  in  the  ecclesiastical  world,  and  a 
consistent  tradition  in  the  parish  ex- 
plained its  inwardness  on  certain 
grounds,  complimentary  both  to  the 
judgment  of  Kilbogie  and  the  gifts  of 
Mr.  Saunderson.  On  Saturday  evening 
he  was  removed  from  the  train  by  the 
merest  accident,  and  left  the  railway  sta- 


i6  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

tion  in  such  a  maze  of  meditation  that  he 
ignored  the  road  to  Kilbogie  altogether, 
although  its  sign-post  was  staring  him 
in  the  face,  and  continued  his  way  to 
Drumtochty.  It  was  half-past  nine  when 
Jamie  Soutar  met  him  on  the  highroad 
through  our  glen,  still  traveling  steadily 
west,  and  being  arrested  by  his  appear- 
ance, beguiled  him  into  conversation,  till 
he  elicited  that  Saunderson  was  minded 
to  reach  Kilbogie.  For  an  hour  did  the 
wanderer  rest  in  Jamie's  kitchen,  during 
which  he  put  Jamie's  ecclesiastical  his- 
tory into  a  state  of  thorough  repair — 
making  seven  distinct  parallels  between 
the  errors  that  had  afflicted  the  Scottish 
Church  and  the  early  heretical  sects, — 
and  then  Jamie  gave  him  in  charge  of  a 
plowman  who  was  courting  in  Kilbogie, 
and  was  not  averse  to  a  journey  that 
seemed  to  illustrate  the  double  meaning 


^ 


/  fhM^ 


m^j^~'-s^ 


HE   PUT   JAMIE'S   ECCLESIASTICAL  HISTORY   INTO   A   STATE 
OF  THOROUGH   REPAIR 


A   SUPRA-LAPSARIAN.  19 

of  charity.  Jeremiah  was  handed  over 
to  his  anxious  hosts  at  a  quarter  to  one 
in  the  morning,  covered  with  mud,  some- 
what fatigued,  but  in  great  peace  of  soul, 
having'  settled  the  place  of  election  in  the 
prophecy  of  Habakkuk  as  he  came  down 
with  his  silent  companion  through 
Tochty  woods. 

Nor  was  that  all  he  had  done.  When 
they  came  out  from  the  shadow  and 
struck  into  the  parish  of  Kilbogie — 
whose  fields,  now  yellow  unto  harvest, 
shone  in  the  moonlight — his  guide  broke 
silence  and  enlarged  on  a  plague  of  field- 
mice  which  had  quite  suddenly  appeared, 
and  had  sadly  devastated  the  grain  of 
Kilbogie.  Saunderson  awoke  from  study 
and  became  exceedingly  curious,  first  of 
all  demanding  a  particular  account  of  the 
coming  of  the  mice,  their  multitude, 
their    habits,    and    their    determination. 


20 


RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 


Then  he  asked  many  questions  about  the 
moral  conduct  and  godhness  of  the  in- 
habitants of  Kilbogie,  which  his  com- 
panion,   as    a    native    of    Drumtochty, 
painted  in  gloomy  colors,  although  indi- 
cating as  became  a  lover  that  even  in  Kil- 
bogie there  was  a  remnant.    Next  morn- 
ing the  minister  rose  at  daybreak,  and 
was  found  wandering  through  the  fields 
in  such  a  state   of  excitement  that  he 
could  hardly  be  induced  to  look  at  break- 
fast.    When  the  "  books  "  were  placed 
before  him,  he  turned  promptly  to  the 
ten    plagues    of    Egypt,    which    he    ex- 
pounded in  order  as  preliminary  to  a  full 
treatment   of  the   visitations   of   Provi- 
dence. 

''  He  cowes  [beats]  a'  ye  ever  saw  or 
heard,"  the  farmer  of  Mains  explained  to 
the  elders  at  the  gate.  "  He  gaed  tae 
his  room  at  half  twa  and  wes  oot  in  the 


A   SUPRA-LAPSARIAN.  21 

fields  by  four,  an'  a'm  dootin'  he  never 
saw  his  bed.  He's  Hfted  abune  the  body 
a'thegither,  an'  can  hardly  keep  himsel 
awa  frae  the  Hebrew  at  his  breakfast. 
Ye'll'  get  a  sermon  the  day,  or  ma  name 
is  no  Peter  Pitillo."  Mains  also  declared 
his  conviction  that  the  invasion  of  mice 
would  be  dealt  with  after  a  scriptural  and 
satisfying  fashion.  The  people  went  in 
full  of  expectation,  and  to  this  day  old 
people  recall  Jeremiah  Saunderson's  trial 
sermon  with  lively  admiration.  Ex- 
perienced critics  were  suspicious  of  can- 
didates who  read  lengthy  chapters  from 
both  Testaments  and  prayed  at  length 
for  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  for  it  was 
justly  held  that  no  man  would  take 
refuge  in  such  obvious  devices  for  filling 
up  the  time  unless  he  was  short  of  ser- 
mon material.  One  unfortunate,  in- 
deed, ruined  his  chances  at  once  by  a 


22  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

long  petition  for  those  in  danger  on  the 
sea — availing  himself  with  some  elo- 
quence of  the  sympathetic  imagery  of 
the  one  hundred  and  seventh  Psalm — 
for  this  effort  was  regarded  as  not  only 
the  most  barefaced  padding,  but  also  as 
evidence  of  an  almost  incredible  blind- 
ness to  circumstances.  "  Did  he  think 
Kilbogie  wes  a  fishing-village?  "  Mains 
inquired  of  the  elders  afterward,  with 
pointed  sarcasm.  Kilbogie  was  not  in- 
different to  a  well-ordered  prayer — al- 
though its  palate  was  coarser  in  the 
appreciation  of  felicitous  terms  and  allu- 
sions than  that  of  Drumtochty — and 
would  have  been  scandalized  if  the  Queen 
had  been  omitted;  but  it  was  by  the  ser- 
mon the  young  man  must  stand  or  fall, 
and  Kilbogie  despised  a  man  who  post- 
poned the  ordeal. 

Saunderson   gave   double   pledges   of 


A   SUPRA-LAPSARIAN.  23 

capacity  and  fullness  before  he  opened 
his  mouth  in  the  sermon,  for  he  read  no 
Scripture  at  all  that  day,  and  had  only 
one  prayer,  which  was  mainly  a  state- 
ment of  the  Divine  Decrees  and  a  careful 
confession  of  the  sins  of  Kilbogie;  and 
then,  having  given  out  his  text  from  the 
prophecy  of  Joel,  he  reverently  closed 
the  Bible  and  placed  it  on  the  seat  behind 
him.  His  own  reason  for  this  proceed- 
ing was  a  desire  for  absolute  security  in 
enforcing  his  subject,  and  a  painful  re- 
membrance of  the  disturbance  in  a  south 
country  church  when  he  landed  a  Bible 
— with  clasps — on  the  head  of  the  pre- 
centor in  the  heat  of  a  discourse  defend- 
ing the  rejection  of  Esau.  Our  best  and 
simplest  actions — and  Jeremiah  was  as 
simple  as  a  babe — can  be  misconstrued, 
and  the  only  dissentient  from  Saunder- 
son's  election  insisted  that  the  Bible  had 


24  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

been  deposited  on  the  floor,  and  asserted 
that  the  object  of  this  profanity  was  to 
give  the  preacher  a  higher  standing  in 
the  pulpit.  This  maHgnant  reading  of 
circumstances  might  have  wrought  mis- 
chief— for  Saunderson's  gaunt  figure  did 
seem  to  grow  in  the  pulpit — had  it  not 
been  for  the  bold  line  of  defense  taken 
up  by  Mains. 

"  Gin  he  wanted  tae  stand  high,  wes 
it  no  tae  preach  the  word?  an'  gin  he 
wanted  a  soond  foundation  for  his  feet, 
what*  better  could  he  get  than  the  twa 
Testaments?     Answer  me  that." 

It  was  seen  at  once  that  no  one  could 
answer  that,  and  the  captious  objector 
never  quite  recovered  his  position  in  the 
parish;  while  it  is  not  the  least  of  Kil- 
bogie's  boasting,  in  which  the  Auld  Kirk 
will  even  join  against  Drumtochty,  that 
they  have  a  minister  who  not  only  does 


A   SUPRA-LAPSARIAN.  25 

not  read  his  sermons  and  does  not  need 
to  quote  his  texts,  but  carries  the  whole 
Bible  in  at  least  three  languages  in  his 
head,  and  once,  as  a  proof  thereof, 
preaciied  with  it  below  his  feet. 

Much  was  to  be  looked  for  from  such 
a  man;  but  even  Mains,  whetted  by  inter- 
course with  Saunderson,  was  astonished 
at  the  sermon.  It  was  a  happy  begin- 
ning to  draw  a  parallel  between  the 
locusts  of  Joel  and  the  mice  of  Kilbogie, 
and  gave  the  preacher  an  opportunity  of 
describing  the  appearance,  habits,  and 
destruction  of  the  locusts,  which  he  did 
solely  from  Holy  Scripture,  translating 
various  passages  afresh,  and  combining 
lights  with  marvelous  ingenuity.  This 
brief  preface  of  half  an  hour,  which  was 
merely  a  stimulant  for  the  Kilbogie  ap- 
petite, led  up  to  a  thorough  examination 
of    physical    judgments,    during    which 


26  RABBI   SAUNDERSON. 

both  Bible  and  church  history  were  laid 
under  liberal  contribution.  At  this  point 
the  minister  halted,  and  complimented 
the  congregation  on  the  attention  they 
had  given  to  the  facts  of  the  case,  which 
were  his  first  head,  and  suggested  that 
before  approaching  the  doctrine  of  visi- 
tations they  might  refresh  themselves 
with  a  Psalm.  The  congregation  were 
visibly  impressed,  and  many  made  up 
their  minds  while  singing 

"  That  man  hath  perfect  blessedness  ;  " 

and  while  others  thought  it  due  to  them- 
selves to  suspend  judgment  till  they  had 
tasted  the  doctrine,  they  afterward  con- 
fessed their  full  confidence.  It  goes 
without  saying  that  he  was  immediately 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  ordinary  people 
on  the  second  head,  and  even  veterans  in 
theology  panted  after  him   in  vain,   so 


A   SUPRA-LAPSARIAN.  27 

that  one  of  the  elders,  nodding  assent  to 
an  exposure  of  the  Manichsean  heresy, 
suddenly  blushed  as  one  who  had  played 
the  hypocrite.  Some  professed  to  have 
noticed  a  doctrine  that  had  not  been 
touched  upon,  but  they  never  could  give 
it  a  name,  and  it  excited  just  admiration 
that  a  preacher,  starting  from  a  plague  of 
mice,  should  have  made  a  way  by  strictly 
scientific  methods  into  the  secret  places 
of  theology.  Saunderson  allowed  his 
hearers  a  brief  rest  after  the  second  head, 
and  cheered  them  with  the  assurance 
that  what  was  still  before  them  would  be 
easy  to  follow.  It  was  the  application  of 
all  that  had  gone  before  to  the  life  of  Kil- 
bogie,  and  the  preacher  proceeded  to 
convict  the  parish  under  each  of  the  ten 
commandments — with  the  plague  of 
mice  ever  in  reserve  to  silence  excuses — 
till    the    delighted    congregation    could 


28  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

have  risen  in  a  body  and  taken  Saunder- 
son  by  the  hand  for  his  fearlessness  and 
faithfulness.  Perhaps  the  extent  and 
thoroughness  of  this  monumental  ser- 
mon can  be  best  estimated  by  the  fact 
that  Claypots,  father  of  the  present 
tenant,  who  always  timed  his  rest  to  fifty 
minutes  exactly,  thus  overseeing  both 
the  introduction  and  application  of  the 
sermon,  had  a  double  portion,  and  even 
a  series  of  supplementary  dozes,  till  at 
last  he  sat  upright  through  sheer  satiety. 
It  may  also  be  offered  as  evidence  that 
the  reserve  of  peppermint  held  by 
mothers  for  their  bairns  was  pooled, 
doles  being  furtively  passed  across  pews 
to  conspicuously  needy  families,  and  yet 
the  last  had  gone  before  Saunderson  fin- 
ished. 

Mains  reported  to  the  congregational 
meeting  that  the  minister  had  been  quiet 


A   SUPRA-LAPSARIAN.  29 

for  the  rest  of  the  day,  but  had  offered  to 
say  something  about  Habakkuk  to  any 
evening  gathering,  and  had  cleared  up  at 
family  worship  some  obscure  points  in 
the  horning  discourse.  He  also  in- 
formed the  neighbors  that  he  had  driven 
his  guest  all  the  way  to  Muirtown,  and 
put  him  in  an  Edinburgh  carriage  with 
his  own  hands,  since  it  had  emerged  that 
Saunderson,  through  absence  of  mind, 
had  made  his  down  journey  by  the  trian- 
gular route  of  Dundee.  It  was  quite  im- 
possible for  Kilbogie  to  conceal  their 
pride  in  electing  such  a  miracle  of  learn- 
ing, and  their  bearing  in  Muirtown  was 
distinctly  changed;  but  indeed  they  did 
not  boast  vainly  about  Jeremiah  Saun- 
derson, for  his  career  was  throughout  on 
the  level  of  that  monumental  sermon. 
When  the  presbytery  in  the  gayety  of 
their    heart    examined    Saunderson    to 


30  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

ascertain  whether  he  was  fully  equipped 
for  the  work  of  the  ministry,  he  professed 
the  whole  Old  Testament  in  Hebrew,  , 
and  MacWheep  of  Pitscowrie,  who 
always  asked  the  candidate  to  read  the 
twenty-third  Psalm,  was  beguiled  by 
Jeremiah  into  the  Book  of  Job,  and  re- 
duced to  the  necessity  of  asking  ques- 
tions by  indicating  verbs  with  his  finger. 
His  Greek  examination  led  to  an  argu- 
ment between  Jeremiah  and  Dr.  Dow- 
biggin  on  the  use  of  the  aorist,  from 
which  the  minister-elect  of  Kilbogie 
came  out  an  easy  first;  and  his  sermons 
were  heard  to  within  measurable  distance 
of  the  second  head  by  an  exact  quorum 
of  the  exhausted  court,  who  were  kept 
by  the  clerk  sitting  at  the  door,  and  pre- 
venting MacWheep  escaping.  His  posi- 
tion in  the  court  was  assured  from  the 
beginning,  and  fulfilled  the  function  of 


A   SUPRA-LAPSARIAN.  31 

an  Encyclopedia,  with  occasional  amaz- 
ing results,  as  when  information  was 
asked  about  some  Eastern  sect  for  whose 
necessities  the  Presbytery  were  asked  to 
colleet,  and  to  whose  warm  piety  affect- 
ing allusion  was  made,  and  Jeremiah 
showed  clearly,  with  the  reporters  pres- 
ent, that  the  Cappadocians  were  guilty 
of  a  heresy  beside  which  Morisonianism 
was  an  unsullied  whiteness.  His  work  as 
examiner-in-general  for  the  court  was  a 
merciful  failure,  and  encouraged  the  stu- 
dents of  the  district  to  return  to  their 
district  court,  who,  on  the  mere  rumor  of 
him,  had  transferred  themselves  in  a 
body  to  a  Highland  Presbytery,  where 
the  standard  question  in  Philosophy 
used  to  be,  "  How  many  horns  has  a  di- 
lemma, and  distinguish  the  one  from  the 
other."  No  man  knew  what  the  minis- 
ter of  Kilbogie  might  not  ask — the  stu- 


32  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

dent  was  only  perfectly  certain  that  it 
would  be  beyond  his  knowledge;  but  as 
Saunderson  always  gave  the  answer  him- 
self in  the  end,  and  imputed  it  to  the  stu- 
dent, anxiety  was  reduced  to  a  minimum. 
Saunderson,  indeed,  was  in  the  custom 
of  passing  all  candidates  and  reporting 
them  as  marvels  of  erudition,  whose  only 
fault  was  a  becoming  modesty — which, 
however,    had    not   concealed    from   his 
keen  eye  hidden  treasures  of  learning. 
Beyond  this  sphere  the  good  man's  serv- 
ices were  not  used  by  a  body  of  shrewd 
ecclesiastics,  as  the  inordinate  length  of 
an  ordination  sermon  had  ruined  a  din- 
ner prepared  for  the  court  by  "  one  of 
our    intelligent    and    large-hearted    lay- 
men," and  it  is  still  pleasantly  told  how 
Saunderson  was  invited  to  a  congrega- 
tional soiree — an  ancient  meeting,  where 
the  people  ate  oranges,  and  the  speaker 


A   SUPRA-LAPSARIAN.  33 

rallied  the  minister  on  being  still  un- 
married— and  discoursed,  as  a  carefully 
chosen  subject,  on  the  Jewish  feasts, — 
with  illustrations  from  the  Talmud, — till 
som.^one  burst  a  paper  bag  and  allowed 
the  feelings  of  the  people  to  escape. 
When  this  history  was  passed  round 
Muirtown  Market,  Kilbogie  thought 
still  more  highly  of  their  minister,  and 
indicated  their  opinion  of  the  other 
parish  in  severely  theological  language. 
Standing  at  his  full  height  he  might 
have  been  six  feet,  but,  with  much  por- 
ing over  books  and  meditation,  he  had 
descended  some  two  inches.  His  hair 
was  long,  not  because  he  made  any  con- 
scious claim  to  genius,  but  because  he 
forgot  to  get  it  cut,  and,  with  his  flow- 
ing untrimmed  beard,  was  now  quite 
gray.  Within  his  clothes  he  was  the 
merest  skeleton,  being  so  thin  that  his 


34  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

shoulder-blades  stood  out  in  sharp  out- 
line, and  his  hands  were  almost  trans- 
parent. The  redeeming  feature  in  Saun- 
derson  was  his  eyes,  which  were  large 
and  eloquent,  of  a  trustful,  wistful  hazel, 
the  beautiful  eyes  of  a  dumb  animal. 
Whether  he  was  expounding  doctrines 
charged  with  despair  of  humanity,  or 
exalting,  in  rare  moments,  the  riches  of 
a  Divine  love  in  which  he  did  not  expect 
to  share,  or  humbly  beseeching  his  breth- 
ren to  give  him  information  on  some 
point  in  scholarship  no  one  knew  any- 
thing about  except  himself,  or  stroking 
the  hair  of  some  little  child  sitting  upon 
his  knee,  those  eyes  were  ever  simple, 
honest,  and  most  pathetic.  Young 
ministers  coming  to  the  Presbytery  full 
of  self-conceit  and  new  views  were 
arrested  by  their  light  shining  through 
the  glasses,  and  came  in  a  year  or  two  to 


A   SUPRA-LAPSARIAN.  35 

have  a  profound  regard  for  Saunderson, 
curiously  compounded  of  amusement  at 
his   ways,   which   for   strangeness   were 
quite    beyond    imagination,    admiration 
for  his  knowledge,  which  was  amazing 
for  its  accuracy  and  comprehensiveness, 
respect  for  his  honesty,  which  feared  no 
conclusion,   however   repellent   to   flesh 
and  blood,  but  chiefly  of  love  for  the 
unaffected   and   shining  goodness   of   a 
man  in  whose  virgin   soul   neither  self 
nor    this    world    had    any    part.     For 
years  the  youngsters  of  the  Presbytery 
knew   not    how   to   address   the    minis- 
ter   of    Kilbogie,     since    anyone    who 
had    dared    to     call    him     Saunderson, 
as   they   said    "  Carmichael,"    and    even 
"  MacWheep,"   though  he  was  elderly, 
would  have  been  deposed,  without  delay, 
from  the  ministry — so  much  reverence 
'  at  least  was  in  the  lads — and  "  Mister  " 


36  RABBI.  SAUNDERSON. 

attached  to  this  personaHty  would  be 
Hke  a  silk  hat  on  the  head  of  an  Eastern 
sage.  Jenkins  of  Pitrodie  always  con- 
sidered that  he  was  inspired  when  he  one 
day  called  Saunderson  "  Rabbi,"  and 
unto  the  day  of  his  death  Kilbogie  was 
so  called.  He  made  protest  against  the 
title  as  being  forbidden  in  the  Gospels, 
but  the  lads  insisted  that  it  must  be 
understood  in  the  sense  of  scholar, 
whereupon  Saunderson  disowned  it  on 
the  ground  of  his  slender  attainments. 
The  lads  saw  the  force  of  this  objection, 
and  admitted  that  the  honorable  word 
belonged  by  rights  to  MacWheep,  who 
was  a  "  gude  body,"  but  it  was  their 
fancy  to  assign  it  to  Saunderson — where- 
at Saunderson  yielded,  only  exacting  a 
pledge  that  he  should  never  be  so  called 
in  public,  lest  all  concerned  be  con- 
demned for  foolishness.     When   it  was 


A   SUPRA-LAPSARIAN.  37 

announced  that  the  University  of  Edin- 
burgh had  resolved  to  confer  the  degree 
of  D.  D.  on  him  for  his  distinguished 
learning  and  great  services  to  theological 
scholarship,  Saunderson,  who  was  de- 
lighted when  Dowbiggin  of  Muirtown 
got  the  honor  for  being  an  ecclesiastic, 
would  have  refused  it  for  himself  had  not 
his  boys  gone  out  in  a  body  and  com- 
pelled him  to  accept.  They  also  pur- 
chased a  Doctor's  gown  and  hood,  and 
invested  him  with  them  in  the  name  of 
Kilbogie  two  days  before  the  capping. 
One  of  them  saw  that  he  was  duly 
brought  to  the  Tolbooth  Kirk,  where 
the  capping  ceremonial  in  those  days 
took  place.  Another  sent  a  list  of  Saun- 
derson's  articles  to  British  and  foreign 
theological  and  philological  reviews, 
which  filled  half  a  column  of  the  Cale- 
donian, and  drew  forth  a  complimentary 


38  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

article  from  that  exceedingly  able  and 
caustic  paper,  whose  editor  lost  all  his 
liair  through  sympathetic  emotion  the 
miorning  of  the  Disruption,  and  ever 
afterward  pointed  out  the  faults  of  the 
Free  Kirk  with  much  frankness.  The 
iame  of  Rabbi  Saunderson  was  so  spread 
abroad  that  a  great  cheer  went  up  as  he 
came  in  with  the  other  Doctors  elect,  in 
which  he  cordially  joined,  considering  it 
to  be  intended  for  his  neighbor,  a  suc- 
cessful West-End  clergyman,  the  author 
of  a  "  Life  of  Dorcas  "  and  other  pleas- 
ing booklets.  For  some  time  after  his 
boys  said  "  Doctor  "  in  every  third  sen- 
tence, and  then  grew  weary  of  a  too  com- 
mon title,  and  fell  back  on  "  Rabbi,"  by 
which  he  was  known  until  the  day  of  his 
death,  and  which  is  now  engraved  on  his 
tombstone. 

Saunderson's  reputation  for  unfathom- 


A   SUPRA-LAPSARIAN.  39 

able  learning  and  saintly  simplicity  was 
built  up  out  of  many  incidents,  and  grew 
with  the  lapse  of  years  to  a  solitary 
height  in  the  big  strath,  so  that  no  man 
would  have  dared  to  smile  had  the  Free 
Kirk  minister  of  Kilbogie  appeared  in 
Muirtown  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  and  Kil- 
bogie would  only  have  been  a  trifle  more 
conceited.  Truly  he  was  an  amazing 
man,  and,  now  that  he  is  dead  and  gone, 
the  last  of  his  race,  I  wish  some  man  of 
his  profession  had  written  his  life,  for  the 
doctrine  he  taught  and  the  way  he  lived 
will  not  be  believed  by  the  new  genera- 
tion. The  arrival  of  his  goods  was  more 
than  many  sermons  to  Kilbogie,  and  I 
had  it  from  Mains'  own  lips.  It  was  the 
kindly  fashion  of  those  days  that  the 
farmers  carted  the  new  minister's  furni- 
ture from  the  nearest  railway  station,  and 
as  the  railway  to  Kildrummie  was  not 


40  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

yet  open,  they  had  to  go  to  Stormont 
Station  on  the  north  hne;  and  a  pleasant 
procession  they  made  passing  through 
Pitscowrie,  ten  carts  in  their  best  array, 
and  drivers  with  a  semi-festive  air.  Mr. 
Saunderson  was  at  the  station,  having 
reached  it,  by  some  miracle,  without  mis- 
take, and  was  in  a  condition  of  abject 
nervousness  about  the  handling  and  con- 
veyance of  his  belongings. 

"  You  will  be  careful — exceeding  care- 
ful," he  implored;  "if  one  of  the  boxes 
were  allowed  to  descend  hurriedly  to  the 
ground,  the  result  to  what  is  within 
would  be  disastrous.  I  am  much  afraid 
that  the  weight  is  considerable,  but  I  am 
ready  to  assist  ";  and  he  got  ready. 

"  Dinna  pit  yirsel  intae  a  feery-farry 
[commotion]  " — but  Mains  was  dis- 
tinctly pleased  to  see  a  little  touch  of 
worldliness,  just  enough  to  keep  the  new 


/^V- 


THE  FARMERS  CARTED    I  HE  NEW  MINISTER'S  FURNITURE   FROM  THE 
NEAREST   RAILWAY   STATION 


I 


I 


A   SUPRA-LAPSARIAN.  43 

minister  in  touch  with  humanity.  "  It  '11 
be  queer  stuff  oor  lads  canna  lift,  an'  a'll 
gie  ye  a  warranty  that  the'll  no  be  a  cup 
o'  the  cheeny  broken  ";  and  then  Saun- 
derson  conducted  his  congregation  to 
the  siding. 

"  Dod,  man,"  remarked  Mains  to  the 
station-master,  examining  a  truck  with 
eight  boxes;  "  the  manse  '11  no  want  for 
dishes  at  ony  rate.  But  let's  start  on  the 
furniture;  whar  hae  ye  got  the  rest  o'  the 
plenishing? 

"  Naething  mair?  havers,  man,  ye 
dinna  mean  tae  say  they  pack  beds  an' 
tables  in  boxes;  a'  doot  there's  a  truck 
missin'."  Then  Mains  went  over  where 
the  minister  was  fidgeting  beside  his  pos- 
sessions. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Saunderson,  when  the 
situation  was  put  before  him,  "  it's  all 
here.    I  counted  the  boxes,  and  I  packed 


44  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

every  box  myself.  That  top  one  con- 
tains the  fathers — deal  gently  with  it; 
and  the  Reformation  divines  are  just  be- 
low it.  Books  are  easily  injured,  and 
they  feel  it.  I  do  believe  there  is  a  cer- 
tain life  in  them,  and  .  .  .  and  .  .  .  they 
don't  like  being  ill-used  ";  and  Jeremiah 
looked  wistfully  at  the  plowmen. 

"  Div  ye  mean  tae  say,"  as  soon  as 
Mains  had  recovered,  "  that  ye've  brocht 
naethin'  for  the  manse  but  bukes,  naither 
bed  nor  bedding?  Keep's  a',"  as  the 
situation  grew  upon  him,  "  whar  are  ye 
tae  sleep,  and  what  are  ye  tae  sit  on? 
An'  div  ye  never  eat?  This  croons  a';" 
and  Mains  gazed  at  his  new  minister  as 
one  who  supposed  that  he  had  taken 
Jeremiah's  measure  and  had  failed 
utterly. 

"  Mea  culpa — it's  ...  my  blame,"  and 
Saunderson   was   evidently   humbled   at 


A   SUPRA-LAPSARIAN.  45 

this  public  exposure  of  his  incapacity; 
"  some  sHght  furnishing  will  be  expe- 
dient, even  necessar}^,  and  I  have  a  plan 
for  book-shelves  in  my  head;  it  is  in- 
genious and  convenient,  and  if  there  is  a 
worker  in  wood  ..." 

"  Come  awa'  tae  the  dog-cart,  sir," 
said  Mains,  realizing  that  even  Kilbogie 
did  not  know  what  a  singular  gift  they 
had  obtained,  and  that  discussion  on 
such  sublunary  matters  as  pots  and  pans 
was  useless,  not  to  say  profane.  So 
eight  carts  got  a  box  each;  one,  Jere- 
miah's ancient  kist  of  moderate  dimen- 
sions; and  the  tenth — that  none  might  be 
left  unrecognized — a  hand-bag  that  had 
been  on  the  twelve  years'  probation  with 
its  master.  The  story  grew  as  it  passed 
westward,  and  when  it  reached  us  we 
were  given  to  understand  that  the  Free 
Kirk  minister  of  Kilbogie  had  come  to 


46  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

his  parish  with  his  clothing  in  a  paper 
parcel  and  twenty-four  packing-cases 
filled  with  books,  in  as  many  languages 
— half  of  them  dating  from  the  introduc- 
tion of  printing,  and  fastened  by  silver 
clasps — and  that  if  Drumtochty  seriously 
desired  to  hear  an  intellectual  sermon  at 
a  time,  we  must  take  our  way  through 
Tochty  woods. 

Mrs.  Pitillo  took  the  minister  into  her 
hands,  and  compelled  him  to  accom- 
pany her  to  Muirtown,  where  she  had 
him  at  her  will  for  some  time,  so  that  she 
equipped  the  kitchen  (fully),  a  dining 
room  (fairly),  a  spare  bedroom  (amply), 
Mr.  Saunderson's  own  bedroom  (miser- 
ably), and  secured  a  table  and  two  chairs 
for  the  study.  This  success  turned  her 
head.  Full  of  motherly  forethought, 
and  having  a  keen  remembrance  that 
probationers  always  retired  in  the  after- 


A   SUPRA-LAPSARIAN.  47 

noon  at  Mains  to  think  over  the  even- 
ing's address,  and  left  an  impress  of  the 
human  form  on  the  bed  when  they  came 
down  to  tea,  Mrs.  Pitillo  suggested  that 
a  sofa  would  be  an  admirable  addition  to 
the  study.  As  soon  as  this  piece  of  fur- 
niture, of  a  size  suitable  for  his  six  feet, 
was  pointed  out  to  the  minister,  he  took 
fright,  and  became  quite  unmanageable. 
He  would  not  have  such  an  article  in  his 
study  on  any  account,  partly  because  it 
would  only  feed  a  tendency  to  sloth — 
which,  he  explained,  was  one  of  his  be- 
setting sins — and  partly  because  it 
would  curtail  the  space  available  for 
books,  which,  he  indicated,  were  the 
proper  furniture  of  any  room,  but  chiefly 
of  a  study.  So  great  was  his  alarm  that 
he  repented  of  too  early  concessions 
about  the  other  rooms,  and  explained  to 
Mrs.  Pitillo  that  every  inch  of  space  must 


48-  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

be  rigidly  kept  for  the  overflow  from  the 
study,  which  he  expected — if  he  were 
spared — would  reach  the  garrets.  Sev- 
eral times  on  their  way  back  to  Kilbogie 
Saunderson  looked  wistfully  at  Mrs. 
Pitillo,  and  once  opened  his  mouth  as  if 
to  speak,  from  which  she  gathered  that 
he  was  grateful  for  her  kindness,  but 
dared  not  yield  any  further  to  the  lux- 
uries of  the  flesh. 

What  this  worthy  woman  endured  in 
securing  a  succession  of  reliable  house- 
keepers for  'Sir.  Saunderson  and  over- 
seeing the  interior  of  that  remarkable 
home  she  was  never  able  to  explain  to 
her  own  satisfaction,  though  she  made 
many  honest  efforts,  and  one  of  her  last 
intelligible  utterances  was  a  lamentable 
prophecy  of  the  final  estate  of  the  Free 
Church  manse  of  Kilbogie.  Mr.  Saun- 
derson himself  seemed  at  times  to  have 


A   SUPRA-LAPSARIAN.  49 

some  vague  idea  of  her  painful  services, 
and  once  mentioned  her  name  to  Car- 
michael  of  Drumtochty  in  feehng  terms. 
There  had  been  some  delay  in  providing 
for  the  bodily  wants  of  the  visitor  after 
his  eight-miles'  walk  from  the  glen,  and 
it  seemed  likely  that  he  would  be  obliged 
to  take  his  meal  standing  for  want  of  a 
chair. 

"  While  Mrs.  Pitillo  lived,  I  have  a 
strong  impression,  almost  amounting  to 
certainty,  that  the  domestic  arrange- 
ments of  the  manse  were  better  ordered; 
she  had  the  episcopal  faculty  in  quite  a 
conspicuous  degree,  and  was,  I  have 
often  thought,  a  woman  of  sound  judg- 
ment. 

"  We  were  not  able  at  all  times  to  see 
eye  to  eye,  as  she  had  an  unfortunate 
tendency  to  meddle  with  my  books  and 
papers,   and   to  arrange   them  after  an 


50  RABBI   SAUNDERSON. 

artificial  fashion.  This  she  called  tidy- 
ing, and,  in  its  most  extreme  form, 
cleaning. 

"  With  all  her  excellences,  there  was 
also  in  her  what  I  have  noticed  in  most 
women,  a  certain  flavor  of  guile,  and  on 
one  occasion,  when  I  was  making  a  brief 
journey  through  Holland  and  France  in 
search  of  comely  editions  of  the  Fathers, 
she  had  the  books  carried  out  to  the  gar- 
den and  dusted.  It  was  the  space  of  two 
years  before  I  regained  mastery  of  my 
library  again,  and  unto  this  day  I  cannot 
lay  my  hands  on  the  service-book  of 
King  Henry  VHL,  which  I  had  in  the 
second  edition,  to  say  nothing  of  an 
original  edition  of  Rutherford's  "  Lex 
Rex." 

"  It  does  not  become  me,  however,  to 
reflect  on  the  efforts  of  that  worthy 
matron,  for  she  was  by  nature  a  good 


A   SUPRA-LAPSARIAN.  51 

woman,  and  if  anyone  could  be  saved  by- 
good  works,  her  place  is  assured.  I  was 
with  her  before  she  died,  and  her  last 
words  to  me  were,  '  Tell  Jean  tae  dust  yir 
bukes  aince  in  the  sax  months,  and  for 
pny  sake  keep  ae  chair  for  sittin'  on.'  It 
was  not  perhaps  quite  the  testimony  one 
would  have  desired  in  the  circumstances, 
but  yet,  Mr.  Carmichael,  I  have  often 
thought  that  there  was  a  spirit  of  ,  .  . 
of  unselfishness,  in  fact,  that  showed  the 
working  of  grace."  Later  in  the  same 
evening  Mr.  Saunderson's  mind  returned 
to  his  friend's  spiritual  state,  for  he  en- 
tered into  a  long  argument  to  show  that 
while  Mary  was  more  spiritual,  Martha 
must  also  have  been  within  the  Divine 
Election. 


KILBOGIE  MANSE. 


KILBOGIE  MANSE. 

MINISTERS  there  were  in  the  great 
strath  so  orderly  that  they  kept 
their  seaUng-wax  in  one  drawer  and  their 
string  in  another,  while  their  sermons 
were  arranged  under  the  books  of  the 
Bible,  and  tied  with  green  silk.  Dr. 
Dowbiggin,  though  a  dull  man  and  of  a 
heavy  carriage,  could  find  in  an  instant 
the  original  draft  of  a  motion  on  instru- 
mental music  he  made  in  the  Presbytery 
of  Muirtown  in  the  year  '5,9,  and  could 
also  give  the  exact  page  in  the  blue- 
books  for  every  word  he  had  uttered  in 
the  famous  case  when  he  showed  that  the 
use  of  an  harmonium  to  train  Mac- 
Wheep's  choir  was  a  return  to  the  bond- 
age  of   Old   Testament   worship.      His 


55 


$6  RABBI   SAUNDERSON. 

collection  of  pamphlets  was  supposed  to 
be  unique,  and  was  a  terror  to  contro- 
versialists, no  man  knowing  when  a  rash 
utterance  on  the  bottomless  mystery  of 
"  spiritual  independence  "  might  not  be 
produced  from  the  Doctor's  coat-tail 
pocket.  He  retired  to  rest  at  10.15,  ^^'^^ 
rose  at  six,  settHng  the  subject  of  his 
next  sermon  on  Sabbath  evening,  and 
finishing  the  first  head  before  breakfast 
on  Monday  morning.  He  had  three 
hats — one  for  funerals,  one  for  mar- 
riages, one  for  ordinary  occasions — and 
lias  returned  from  the  Presbytery  door 
to  brush  his  coat.  Morning  prayers  in 
Dr.  Dowbiggin's  house  were  at  8.05,  and 
the  wrath  of  the  Doctor  was  so  danger- 
ous that  one  probationer  staying  at  the 
manse,  and  not  quite  independent  of  in- 
fluence, did  not  venture  to  undress,  but 
snatched  a  fearful  doze  sitting  upright 


KILBOGIE    MANSE.  57 

on  a  cane-bottomed  chair,  lest  he  should 
not  be  in  at  the  psalm.  Young  minis- 
ters of  untidy  habits  regarded  Dr.  Dow- 
biggin's  study  with  despair,  and  did  not 
receiver  their  spirits  till  they  were  out  of 
Muirtown.  Once  only  did  this  eminent 
man  visit  the  manse  of  Kilbogie,  and  in 
favorable  moments  after  dinner  he  would 
give  his  choicer  experiences. 

"  It  is  my  invariable  custom  to  ex- 
amine the  bed  to  see  that  everything  is 
in  order,  and  anyone  sleeping  in  Kil- 
bogie Manse  will  find  the  good  of  such  a 
precaution.  I  trust  that  I  am  not  a  lux- 
urious person — it  would  ill  become  one 
who  came  out  in  '43 — but  I  have  cer- 
tainly become  accustomed  to  the  use  of 
sheets.  When  I  saw  there  were  none  on 
the  bed,  I  declined  to  sleep  without 
them,  and  I  indicated  my  mind  very  dis- 
tinctly on  the  condition  of  the  manse. 


58  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

"  Would  you  believe  it?  "  the  Doctor 
used  to  go  on.  "  Saunderson  explained, 
as  if  it  were  a  usual  occurrence,  that  he 
had  given  away  all  the  spare  linen  in  his 
house  to  a  girl  that  had  to  marry  in  .  .  . 
urgent  circumstances,  and  had  forgotten 
to  get  more.  And  what  do  you  think 
did  he  offer  as  a  substitute  for  sheets?  " 
No  one  could  even  imagine  what  might 
not  occur  to  the  mind  of  Saunderson. 

"  Towels,  as  I  am  an  honorable  man;  a 
collection  of  towels,  as  he  put  it,  '  skill- 
fully attached  together,  might  make  a 
pleasant  covering.'  That  is  the  first  and 
last  time  I  ever  slept  in  the  Free  Church 
Manse  of  Kilbogie.  As  regards  Saun- 
derson's  study,  I  will  guarantee  that  the 
like  of  it  cannot  be  found  within  Scot- 
land;" and  at  the  very  thought  of  it  that 
exact  and  methodical  ecclesiastic  real- 
ized the  limitations  of  language. 


KILBOGIE   MANSE.  59 

His  boys  boasted  of  the  Rabbi's  study 
as  something  that  touched  genius  in  its 
magnificent  disorderliness,  and  Car- 
michael  was  so  proud  of  it  that  he  took 
me  to'  see  it  as  to  a  shrine.  One  whiff 
of  its  atmosphere  as  you  entered  the 
door  gave  an  appetite  and  raised  the 
highest  expectations.  For  any  book- 
man can  estimate  a  Hbrary  by  scent — if 
an  expert,  he  could  even  write  out  a  cata- 
logue of  the  books  and  sketch  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  owner.  Heavy  odor  of 
polished  mahogany,  Brussels  carpets, 
damask  curtains,  and  tablecloths;  then 
the  books  are  kept  within  glass,  consist 
of  sets  of  standard  works  in  half  calf,  and 
the  owner  will  give  you  their  cost  whole- 
sale to  a  farthing.  Faint  fragrance  of 
delicate  flowers  and  Russia  leather,  with 
a  hint  of  cigarettes;  prepare  yourself  for 
a  marvelous  wall-paper,  etchings,  bits  of 


6o  RABBI    SAUNDERSON, 

oak,  limited  editions,  and  a  man  in  a  vel- 
vet coat.  Smell  of  paste  and  cloth  bind- 
ing and  general  newness  mean  yester- 
day's books  and  a  reviewer  racing 
through  novels  with  a  paper-knife. 
Those  are  only  bookrooms  by  courtesy, 
and  never  can  satisfy  anyone  who  has 
breathed  the  sacred  air.  It  is  a  rich  and 
strong  spirit,  not  only  filling  the  room, 
but  pouring  out  from  the  door  and  pos- 
sessing the  hall,  redeeming  an  opposite 
dining  room  from  grossness,  and  a  more 
distant  drawing  room  from  frivolity,  and 
even  lending  a  goodly  flavor  to  bedrooms 
on  upper  floors.  It  is  distilled  from 
curious  old  duodecimos  packed  on  high 
shelves  out  of  sight,  and  blows  over 
folios,  with  large  clasps,  that  once  stood 
in  monastery  libraries,  and  gathers  a 
subtle  sweetness  from  parchments  that 
were  illuminated  in  ancient  scriptoriums 


KILBOGIE   MANSE.  6i 

that  are  now  grass-grown,  and  it  is  forti- 
fied with  good  old  musty  calf.  The 
wind  was  from  the  right  quarter  on  the 
first  day  I  visited  Kilbogie  Manse,  and  as 
we  went  up  the  garden  walk  the  Rabbi's 
library  already  bade  us  welcome,  and 
assured  us  of  our  reward  for  a  ten-miles' 
walk. 

Saunderson  was  perfectly  helpless  in 
all  manner  of  mechanics — he  could  not 
drive  a  tack  through  anything  except  his 
own  fingers,  and  had  given  up  shaving 
at  the  suggestion  of  his  elders — and  yet 
he  boasted,  with  truth,  that  he  had  got 
three  times  as  many  books  into  the  study 
as  his  predecessor  possessed  in  all  his 
house.  For  Saunderson  had  shelved  the 
walls  from  the  floor  to  the  ceiling,  into 
every  corner,  and  over  the  doors  and 
above  the  windows,  as  well  as  below 
them.     The  wright  had  wished  to  leave 


62  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

the     space     clear     above     the     mantel- 
piece. 

"  Ye'll  be  hanging  Dr.  Chalmers  there, 
or  maybe  John  Knox,  and  a  bit  clock  '11 
be  handy  for  letting  ye  ken  the  'oors  on 
Sabbath." 

The  Rabbi  admitted  that  he  had  a 
Knox,  but  was  full  of  a  scheme  for  hang- 
ing him  over  his  own  history,  which  he 
considered  both  appropriate  and  con- 
venient. As  regards  time,  it  was  the  last 
thing  of  which  that  worthy  man  desired 
to  be  reminded — going  to  bed  when  he 
could  no  longer  see  for  weariness,  and 
rising  as  soon  as  he  awoke,  taking  his. 
food  when  it  was  brought  to  him,  and 
being  conducted  to  church  by  the  beadle 
after  the  last  straggler  was  safely  seated. 
He  even  cast  covetous  eyes  upon  the  two 
windows,  which  were  absurdly  large,  as 
he  considered,  but  compromised  matters 


KILBOGIE   MANSE.  63 

by  removing  the  shutters  and  filling  up 
the  vacant  space  with  slender  works  of 
devotion.  It  was  one  of  his  conceits 
that  the  rising  sun  smote  first  on  an 
A'Kempis,  for  this  he  had  often  noticed 
as  he  worked  of  a  morning. 

Bookshelves  had  long  ago  failed  to  ac- 
commodate the  Rabbi's  treasure,  and  the 
floor  had  been  bravely  utilized.  Islands 
of  books,  rugged  and  perpendicular,  rose 
on  every  side;  long  promontories 
reached  out  from  the  shore,  varied  by 
bold  headlands;  and  so  broken  and 
varied  was  that  floor  that  the  Rabbi  was 
pleased  to  call  it  the  ^gean  Sea,  where 
he  had  his  Lesbos  and  his  Samos.  It  is 
absolutely  incredible,  but  it  is  all  the 
same  a  simple  fact,  that  he  knew  every 
book  and  its  location,  having  a  sense  of 
the  feel  as  well  as  the  shape  of  his  favor- 
ites.    This  was  not  because  he  had  the 


64  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

faintest  approach  to  orderliness,  for  he 
would  take  down  twenty  volumes  and 
never  restore  them  to  the  same  place  by 
any  chance.  It  was  a  sort  of  motherly 
instinct  by  which  he  watched  over  them 
all,  and  even  loved  prodigals  who  wan- 
dered over  all  the  study  and  then  set  off 
on  adventurous  journeys  into  distant 
rooms.  The  restoration  of  an  emigrant 
to  his  lawful  home  was  celebrated  by  a 
feast,  in  which,  by  a  confusion  of  circum- 
stances, the  book  played  the  part  of  the 
fatted  calf,  being  read  afresh  from  begin- 
ning to  end.  During  his  earlier  and 
more  agile  years  the  Rabbi  used  to  reach 
the  higher  levels  of  his  study  by  wonder- 
ful gymnastic  feats,  but  after  two  falls — 
one  with  three  Ante-Nicene  fathers  in 
close  pursuit — he  determined  to  call  in 
assistance.  This  he  did  after  an  impres- 
sive  fashion.      When   he   attended   the 


KILBOGIE   MANSE.  65 

roup  at  Pitfoodles — a  day  of  historical 
prices — and  purchased  in  open  competi- 
tion, at  three  times  its  value,  a  small 
stack  ladder,  Kilbogie  was  convulsed, 
and  vlMains  had  to  offer  explanations. 

"  He's  cuttit  aff  seevin  feet,  and  rins 
up  it  tae  get  his  tapmaist  bukes,  but 
that's  no'  a',"  and  then  Mains  gave  it  to 
be  understood  that  the  rest  of  the  things 
the  minister  had  done  with  that  ladder 
were  beyond  words.  For  in  order  that 
the  rough  wood  might  not  scar  the  sen- 
sitive backs  of  the  Fathers,  the  Rabbi  had 
covered  the  upper  end  with  cloth,  and 
for  that  purpose  had  utilized  a  pair  of 
trousers.  It  was  not  within  his  ability 
in  any  way  to  reduce  or  adapt  his  ma- 
terial, so  that  those  interesting  garments 
remained  in  their  original  shape,  and,  as 
often  as  the  ladder  stood  reversed,  pre- 
sented a  very  impressive  and  diverting 


66  RABBI   SAUNDERSON. 

spectacle.  It  was  the  inspiration  of  one 
of  Carmichael's  most  successful  stories — 
how  he  had  done  his  best  to  console  a 
woman  on  the  death  of  her  husband,  and 
had  not  altogether  failed,  till  she  caught 
sight  of  the  deceased's  nether  garments 
waving  disconsolately  on  a  rope  in  the 
garden,  when  she  refused  to  be  com- 
forted. "  Toom  [empty]  breeks  tae  me 
noo,"  and  she  wept  profusely,  "  toom 
breeks  tae  me." 

One  of  the  great  efforts  of  the  Rabbi's 
life  was  to  seat  his  visitors,  since  beyond 
the  one  chair,  accommodation  had  to  be 
provided  on  the  table,  wheresoever  there 
happened  to  be  no  papers,  and  on  the 
ledges  of  the  bookcases.  It  was  pretty 
to  see  the  host  suggesting  from  a  long 
experience  those  coigns  of  vantage  he 
counted  easiest  and  safest,  giving  warn- 
ings also  of  unsuspected  danger  in  the 


SEARCHING   FOR   A   LOST   NOTE 


KILBOGIE    MANSE.  69 

shape  of  restless  books  that  might  either 
yield  beneath  one's  feet  or  descend  on 
one's  head.  Carmichael,  however, 
needed  no  such  guidance,  for  he  knew 
his  w^ay  about  in  the  marvelous  place, 
and  at  once  made  for  what  the  boys 
called  the  throne  of  the  Fathers.  This 
was  a  lordly  seat,  laid  as  to  its  founda- 
tion in  mediaeval  divines  of  ponderous 
content,  but  excellently  finished  with  the 
Benedictine  edition  of  St.  Augustine, 
softened  by  two  cushions,  one  for  a  seat 
and  another  for  a  back.  Here  Carmichael 
used  to  sit  in  great  content,  smoking  and 
listening  while  the  Rabbi  hunted  an  idea 
through  Scripture  with  many  authori- 
ties, or  defended  the  wildest  Calvinism 
with  strange,  learned  arguments;  from 
this  place  he  would  watch  the  Rabbi 
searching  for  a  lost  note  on  some  pass- 
age of  Holy  Writ  amid  a  pile  of  papers 


70  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

two  feet  deep,  through  which  he  bur- 
rowed on  all-fours,  or  climbing  for  a 
book  on  the  sky-line,  to  forget  his  errand 
and  to  expound  some  point  of  doctrine 
from  the  top  of  the  ladder. 

"  You're  comfortable,  John,  and  you 
do  not  want  to  put  off  your  boots  after 
all  that  traveling  to  and  fro?  Then  I 
will  search  for  Barbara,  and  secure  some 
refreshment  for  our  bodies";  and  Car- 
michael  watched  the  Rabbi  depart  with 
pity,  for  he  was  going  on  a  troublous 
errand. 

Housekeepers  are,  after  beadles,  the 
most  wonderful  functionaries  in  the 
ecclesiastical  life  of  Scotland,  and  every 
species  could  be  found  within  a  day's 
journey  of  Drumtochty.  Jenkins,  in- 
deed, suggested  that  a  series  of  papers 
on  church  institutions  read  at  the  clerical 
club  should  include  one  on  housekeepers, 


KILBOGIE   MANSE.  7i 

and  offered  to  supply  the  want,  which 
was  the  reason  why  Dr.  Dowbiggin  re- 
fused to  certify  him  to  a  vacancy,  speak- 
ing of  him  as  "  frivolous  and  irrespon- 
sible!" The  class  ranged  from  Sarah  of 
Drumtochty,  who  could  cook  and  knew 
nothing  about  ecclesiastical  affairs,  to 
that  austere  damsel,  Margaret  Meikle- 
wham  of  Pitscowrie,  who  had  never  pre- 
pared an  appetizing  meal  in  her  life,  but 
might  have  sat  as. an  elder  in  the  Pres- 
bytery. 

Among  all  her  class  Barbara  Mac- 
Cluckie  stood  an  easy  worst,  being  the 
most  incapable,  unsightly,  evil-tempered, 
vexatious  woman  into  whose  hands  an 
unmarried  man  had  ever  been  delivered. 
MacWheep  had  his  own  trials,  but  his 
ruler  saw  that  he  had  sufficient  food  and 
some  comfort,  but  Barbara  laid  herself 
out  to  make  the  Rabbi's  life  a  misery. 


72  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

He  only  obtained  his  meals  as  a  favor, 
and  an  extra  blanket  had  to  be  won  by 
a  week's  abject  humiliation.  Fire  was 
only  allowed  him  at  times,  and  he 
secured  oil  for  his  lamp  by  stratagem. 
Latterly  he  was  glad  to  send  strange 
ministers  to  Mains,  and  his  boys  alone 
forced  lodgment  in  the  manse.  The 
settlement  of  Barbara  was  the  great 
calamity  of  the  Rabbi's  life,  and  was  the 
doing  of  his  own  good-nature.  He  first 
met  her  when  she  came  to  the  manse  one 
evening  to  discuss  the  unlawfulness  of 
infant  baptism  and  the  duty  of  holding 
Sunday  on  Saturday,  being  the  Jewish 
Sabbath.  His  interest  deepened  on 
learning  that  she  had  been  driven  from 
twenty-nine  situations  through  the  per- 
secution of  the  ungodly;  and  on  her 
assuring  him  that  she  had  heard  a  voice 
in  a  dream  bidding  her  take  charge  of 


KILBOGIE   MANSE.  73 

Kilbogie  Manse,  the  Rabbi,  who  had  suf- 
fered many  things  at  the  hands  of  young 
girls  given  to  lovers,  installed  Barbara, 
and  began  to  repent  that  very  day.  A 
tall,  bony,  forbidding  woman,  with  a 
squint,  and  a  nose  turning  red,  as  she 
stated,  from  chronic  indigestion,  let  it  be 
said  for  her  that  she  did  not  fall  into  the 
sins  of  her  predecessors.  It  was  indeed 
a  pleasant  jest  in  Kilbogie  for  four  Sab- 
baths that  she  allowed  a  local  Romeo, 
who  knew  not  that  his  Juliet  was  gone, 
to  make  his  adventurous  way  to  her  bed- 
room window,  and  then  showed  such  an 
amazing  visage  that  he  was  laid  up  for  a 
week  through  the  suddenness  of  his  fall. 
What  the  Rabbi  endured  no  one  knew, 
but  his  boys  understood  that  the  only  re- 
lief he  had  from  Barbara's  tyranny  was 
on  Sabbath  evening  when  she  stated  her 
objections  to  his  sermons,   and  threat- 


74  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

ened  henceforward  to  walk  into  Muir- 
town  in  order  to  escape  from  unsound 
doctrine.  On  such  occasions  the  Rabbi 
laid  himself  out  for  her  instruction  with 
much  zest,  and  he  knew  when  he  had 
produced  an  impression,  for  then  he 
went  supperless  to  bed.  Between  this 
militant  spirit  and  the  boys  there  was  an 
undying  feud,  and  Carmichael  was  not 
at  all  hurt  to  hear  her  frank  references  to 
himself. 

"  What  need  he  come  stravagin'  doon 
frae  Drumtochty  for?  it  wud  set  him  bet- 
ter tae  wait  on  his  ain  fouk.  A  licht- 
headed  fellow,  they  say  as  kens;  an'  as  for 
his  doctrine — weel,  maybe  it  '11  dae  for 
Drumtochty. 

"  Tea?  Did  ye  expect  me  tae  hae 
biling  water  at  this  'oor  o'  the  nicht? 
My  word,  the  money  wud  flee  in  this 
hoose  gin  a'  wesna  here.     Milk  '11  dae 


KILBOGIE   MANSE.  75 

I 

fine  for  yon  birkie:  he  micht  be  glad  tae 
get  onything,  sorning  on  a  respectable 
manse  every  ither  week." 

"  You  will  pardon  our  humble  provi- 
sion " — this  is  how  the  Rabbi  prepared 
Carmichael;  "  we  have  taken  my  worthy 
Abigail  unawares,  and  she  cannot  do  for 
us  what  in  other  circumstances  would  be 
her  desire.  She  has  a  thorn  in  the  flesh 
which  troubles  her,  and  makes  her  do 
what  she  would  not,  but  I  am  convinced 
that  her  heart  is  right." 

That  uncompromising  woman  took 
no  notice  of  Drumtochty,  but  busied 
herself  in  a  search  for  the  Rabbi's  bag, 
which  he  insisted  had  been  brought 
home  from  Muirtown  that  morning,  and 
which  was  at  last  found  covered  with 
books. 

"  Do  not  open  it  at  present,  Barbara; 
you  can  identify  the  contents  later  if  it 


76  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

be  necessary,  but  I  am  sure  they  are  all 
right";  and  the  Rabbi  watched  Bar- 
bara's investigations  with  evident  anx- 
iety. 

"  Maybe  ye  hae  brocht  back  what  ye 
started  wi',  but  gin  ye  hev,  it's  the  first 
time  a'  can  mind.  Laist  sacrament  at 
Edinburgh  ye  pickit  up  twal  books,  ae 
clothes-brush,  an'  a  crochet  cover  for  a 
chair,  an'  left  a'thing  that  belonged  tae 
ye." 

"  It  was  an  inadvertence ;  but  I  ob- 
tained a  drawer  for  my  own  use  this  time, 
and  I  was  careful  to  pack  its  contents 
into  the  bag,  leaving  nothing."  But  the 
Rabbi  did  not  seem  over-confident. 

"  There's  nae  question  that  ye  hev 
filled  the  pack,"  said  Barbara,  with  much 
deliberation  and  an  ominous  calmness; 
"  but  whether  wi'  yir  ain  gear  or  some 
ither  body's,  a'll  leave  ye  tae  judge  yirsel. 


KILBOGIE   MANSE.  ^^ 

A'l]  juist  empty  the  bag  on  the  bukes  "; 
and  Barbara  selected  a  bank  of  Puri- 
tans for  the  display  of  her  master's 
spoil. 

'' Ae  slipbody  [bodice],  weel  hemmed 
and  glide  stuff — ye  didna  tak'  that  wi' 
ye,  at  ony  rate;  twa  pillow-slips — they'll 
come  in  handy,  oor  ain  are  wearin'  thin; 
ae  pair  o'  sheets — '11  just  dae  for  the  next 
trimmie  that  ye  want  tae  set  up  in  her 
hoose;  this  '11  be  a  bolster-slip,  a'm 
judgin' " 

"  It  must  be  the  work  of  Satan,"  cried 
the  poor  Rabbi,  who  constantly  saw  the 
hand  of  the  great  enemy  in  the  disorder 
of  his  study.  "  I  cannot  believe  that  my 
hands  packed  such  garments  in  place  of 
my  own." 

"  Ye'll  be  satisfied  when  ye  read  the 
name;  it's  plain  eneuch;  ye  needna  gang 
dodderin'  aboot  here  and  there  lookin' 


78  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

for  yir  glasses;  there's  twa  pair  on  your 
head  already  ";  for  it  was  an  hour  of  tri- 
umph to  Barbara's  genial  soul. 

"  It's  beyond  understanding,"  mur- 
mured the  Rabbi.  "  I  must  have  mis- 
taken one  drawer  for  another  in  the 
midst  of  meditation";  and  then,  when 
Barbara  had  swept  out  of  the  room  with 
the  varied  linen  on  her  arm,  "  This  is 
very  humihating,  John,  and  hard  to 
bear." 

"Nonsense,  Rabbi;  it's  one  of  the 
finest  things  you  have  ever  done.  Half 
a  dozen  journeys  of  that  kind  would  re- 
furnish the  manse;  it's  just  a  pity  you 
can't  annex  a  chair  ";  but  he  saw  that  the 
good  man  was  sorely  vexed. 

"  You  are  a  good  lad,  John,  and  it  is 
truly  marvelous  what  charity  I  have  re- 
ceived at  the  hands  of  young  men  who 
might   have    scorned    and    mocked    me. 


KILBOGIE    MANSE.  79 

God  knows  how  my  heart  has  been  filled 
with  gratitude,  and  I  .  .  .  have  men- 
tioned  your  names  in  my  unworthy 
prayers,  that  God  may  do  to-  you  all  ac- 
cordmg  to  the  kindness  ye  have  shown 
unto  me." 

It  was  plain  that  this  lonely,  silent  man 
was  much  moved,  and  Carmichael  did 
not  speak. 

"  People  consider  that  I  am  ignorant 
of  my  failings  and  weaknesses,  and  I  can 
bear  witness  with  a  clear  conscience  that 
I  am  not  angry  when  they  smile  and  nod 
the  head;  why  should  I  be?  But,  John, 
it  is  known  to  myself  only,  and  Him  be- 
fore whom  all  hearts  are  open,  how  great 
is  my  suffering  in  being  among  my 
neighbors  as  a  sparrow  upon  the  house- 
top. 

"  May  you  never  know,  John,  what  it 
is  to  live  alone  and  friendless  till  you  lose 


8o  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

the  ways  of  other  men  and  retire  within 
yourself,  looking  out  on  the  multitude 
passing  on  the  road  as  a  hermit  from  his 
cell,  and  knowing  that  some  day  you  will 
die  alone,  with  none  to  .  .  .  give  you  a 
draught  of  water!  " 

"  Rabbi,  Rabbi," — for  Carmichael  was 
greatly  distressed  at  the  woe  in  the  face 
opposite  him,  and  his  heart  was  tender 
that  night, — "  why  should  you  have 
lived  like  that?  Do  not  be  angry,  but 
.  .  .  did  God  intend  ...  it  cannot  be 
wrong  ...  I  mean  .  .  .  God  did  give 
Eve  to  Adam." 

"  Laddie,  why  do  ye  speak  with  fear 
and  a  faltering  voice?  Did  I  say  aught 
against  that  gracious  gift  or  the  holy 
mystery  of  love,  which  is  surely  the  sign 
of  the  union  betwixt  God  and  the  soul, 
as  is  set  forth  after  a  mystical  shape  in 
the  Song  of  Songs?     But  it  was  not  for 


KILBOGIE   MANSE.  8i 

me — no,  not  for  me.  I  complain  not, 
neither  have  I  vexed  mv  soul.  He  doeth 
all  things  well." 

"  But,  dear  Rabbi  " — and  Carmichael 
liesit^;feted,  not  knowing  where  he  stood. 

"  Ye  ask  me  why  " — the  Rabbi  antici- 
pated the  question — "  and  I  will  tell  you 
plainly,  for  my  heart  has  ever  gone  forth 
to  you.  For  long  years  I  found  no  favor 
in  the  eves  of  the  Church,  and  it  seemed 
likely  I  would  be  rejected  from  the  min- 
istry as  a  man  useless  and  unprofitable. 
How  could  I  attempt  to  win  the  love  of 
any  maiden,  since  it  did  not  appear  to  be 
the  will  of  God  that  I  should  ever  have  a 
place  of  habitation?  It  consisted  not 
with  honor,  for  I  do  hold  firmly  that  no 
man  hath  any  right  to  seek  unto  himself 
a  wife  till  he  have  a  home." 

"  But  ..." 

"  Afterward,    you    would     say.     Ah, 


82  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

John!  then  had  I  become  old  and  un- 
sightly, not  such  a  one  as  women  could 
care  for.  It  would  have  been  cruel  to 
tie  a  maid  for  life  to  one  who  might  only 
be  forty  years  in  age,  but  was  as  seventy 
in  his  pilgrimage,  and  had  fallen  into  un- 
lovely habits." 

Then  the  Rabbi  turned  on  Carmichael 
his  gentle  eyes,  that  were  shining  with 
tears. 

"  It  will  be  otherwise  with  you,  and  so 
let  it  be.  May  I  live  to  see  you  rejoic- 
ing with  the  wife  of  your  youth !  " 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  it  was  to  this 
unlikely  man  Carmichael  told  his  love 
for  Kate  Carnegie  and  what  like  Kate 
was,  and  he  was  amazed  at  the  under- 
standing of  the  Rabbi,  as  well  as  his  sym- 
pathy and  toleration. 

"  A  maid  of  spirit — and  that  is  an  ex- 
cellent  thing;   and   any   excess   will   be 


KILBOGIE   MANSE.  83 

tamed  by  life.  Only  see  to  it  that  ye 
agree  in  that  which  lieth  beneath  all 
churches  and  maketh  souls  one  in  God. 
May  He  prosper  you  in  your  wooing  as 
He  did  the  patriarch  Jacob,  and  far  more 
abundantly!  " 

Very  early  in  the  morning  Carmichael 
awoke,  and  being  tempted  by  the  sun- 
rise, arose  and  went  downstairs.  As  he 
came  near  the  study  door  he  heard  a 
voice  in  prayer,  and  knew  that  the 
Rabbi  had  been  all  night  in  interces- 
sion. 

"  Thou  hast  denied  me  wife  and  child; 
deny  me  not  Thyself.  .  .  A  stranger 
Thou  hast  made  me  among  men;  refuse 
me  not  a  place  in  the  City.  .  .  Deal 
graciously  with  this  lad  who  has  been  to 
me  as  a  son  in  the  Gospel.  .  .  He  has 
not  despised  an  old  man;  put  not  his 
heart  to  confusion.  .  ." 


84  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

Carmichael  crept  upstairs  again,  but 
not  to  sleep,  and  at  breakfast  he  pledged 
the  Rabbi  to  come  up  some  day  and  see 
Kate  Carnegie. 


THE  RABBI  AS  CONFESSOR. 


THE  RABBI  AS  CONFESSOR. 


J 


O'  NE  day  Carmichael,  who  had  quar- 
reled with  Kate  over  Mary  Queen 
of  Scots  and  had  lost  hope,  came  to  a 
good  resolution  suddenly,  and  went 
down  to  see  Rabbi  Saunderson — the 
very  thought  of  whose  gentle,  patient, 
selfless  life  was  a  rebuke  and  a  tonic. 

When  two  tramps  held  conference  on 
the  road,  and  one  indicated  to  the  other 
visibly  that  any  gentleman  in  temporary 
distress  would  be  treated  after  a  Chris- 
tian fashion  at  a  neighboring  house,  Car- 
michael, who  had  been  walking  in  a 
dream  since  he  passed  the  Lodge,  knew 
instantly  that  be  must  be  near  the  Free 
Kirk  manse  of  Kilbogie.     The  means  of 

87 


88  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

communication  between  the  members  of 
the  nomadic  profession  is  almost  perfect 
in  its  frequency  and  accuracy,  and  Saun- 
derson's  manse  was  a  hedge-side  word. 
Not  only  did  all  the  regular  travelers  by 
the  north  road  call  on  their  going  up  in 
spring  and  their  coming  down  in  au- 
tumn, but  habitues  of  the  east  coast 
route  were  attracted  and  made  a  circuit 
to  embrace  so  hospitable  a  home,  and 
even  country  vagrants  made  their  way 
from  Dunleith  and  down  through  Glen 
Urtach  to  pay  their  respects  to  the 
Rabbi.  They  had  particular  directions 
to  avoid  Barbara — expressed  in  cipher 
on  five  different  posts  in  the  vicinity,  and 
enforced  in  picturesque  language,  of  an 
evening — and  they  were  therefore  care- 
ful to  waylay  the  Rabbi  on  the  road,  or 
enter  his  study  boldly  from  the  front. 
The  humbler  members  of  the  profession 


THE    RABBI    AS   CONFESSOR.  89 

contented  themselves  with  explaining 
that  they  had  once  been  prosperous 
tradesmen,  and  were  now  walking  to 
Muirtown  in  search  of  work — receiving 
their  alms  in  silence,  with  diffidence  and 
sham"e;  but  those  in  a  higher  walk  came 
to  consult  the  Rabbi  on  Bible  difficulties, 
which  were  threatening  to  shake  their 
faith,  and  departed  much  relieved — with 
a  new  view  of  Lot's  wife,  as  well  as  a  suit 
of  clothes  the  Rabbi  had  only  worn  three 
times. 

"  You  have  done  kindly  by  me  in  call- 
ing " — the  vagabond  had  finished  his 
story  and  was  standing,  a  very  abject 
figure,  among  the  books — "  and  in  giv- 
ing me  the  message  from  your  friend.  I 
am  truly  thankful  that  he  is  now  laboring 
— in  iron,  did  you  say? — and  I  hope  he 
may  be  a  cunning  artificer. 

"  You  will  not  set  it  down  to  careless- 


90  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

ness  that  I  cannot  quite  recall  the  face  of 
your  friend,  for,  indeed,  it  is  my  privileg"e 
to  see  many  travelers,  and  there  are  times 
when  I  may  have  been  a  minister  to  them 
on  their  journeys,  as  I  would  be  to  you 
also  if  there  be  anything  in  which  I  can 
serve  you.  It  grieves  me  to  say  that  I 
have  no  clothing  that  I  might  ofifer  you; 
it  happens  that  a  very  worthy  man 
passed  here  a  few  days  ago  most  insufifi- 
ciently  clad  and  .  .  .  but  I  should  not 
have  alluded  to  that;  my  other  garments, 
save  what  I  wear,  are  .  .  .  kept  in  a 
place  of  .  .  .  safety  by  my  excellent 
housekeeper,  and  she  makes  their  cus- 
tody a  point  of  conscience;  you  might 
put  the  matter  before  her.  .  .  Assur- 
edly it  would  be  difficult,  and  I  crave 
your  pardon  for  putting  you  in  an  .  .  . 
embarrassing  position;  it  is  my  mis- 
fortune to  have  to-day  neither  silver  nor 


"SOME  SUITABLE  SUM    FOR   OUR   BROTHER  HERE  WHO  IS  PASSING 
THROUGH    ADVERSITY  ' 


THE   RABBI    AS   CONFESSOR.  93 

gold," — catching  sight  of  Carmichael  in 
the  passage,  "  This  is  a  Providence. 
May  I  borrow  from  you,  John,  some 
suitable  sum  for  our  brother  here  who  is 
passing  through  adversity?  " 

*'  Do  not  be  angry  with  me,  John  " — 
after  the  tramp  had  departed,  with  five 
shillings  in  hand  and  much  triumph  over 
Carmichael  on  his  face — "  nor  speak  bit- 
terly of  our  fellow-men.  Verily  theirs 
is  a  hard  lot  who  have  no  place  to  lay 
their  head,  and  who  journey  in  weariness 
from  city  to  city.  John,  I  was  once  a 
stranger  and  a  wayfarer,  wandering  over 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land.  Nor 
had  I  a  friend  on  earth  till  my  feet  were 
led  to  the  Mains,  -where  my  heart  was 
greatly  refreshed,  and  now  God  has  sur- 
rounded me  with  young  men  of  whose 
kindness  I  am  not  worthy;  wherefore  it 
becometh     me    to    show    mercy    unto 


94  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

Others";  and  the  Rabbi  looked  at  Car- 
michael  with  such  sweetness  that  the 
lad's  sullenness  began  to  yield,  although 
he  made  no  sign. 

''  Moreover,"  and  the  Rabbi's  voice 
took  a  lower  tone,  "  as  often  as  I  look  on 
one  of  those  men  of  the  highways,  there 
Cometh  to  me  a  vision  of  Him  who  was 
an  outcast  of  the  people,  and  albeit  some 
may  be  as  Judas,  peradventure  one 
might  beg  alms  of  me,  a  poor  sinful  man, 
some  day,  and  lo  it  might  be  .  .  .  the 
Lord  himself  in  a  saint  ";  and  the  Rabbi 
bowed  his  head  and  stood  a  while  much 
moved. 

"  Rabbi,"  after  a  pause,  during  which 
Carmichael's  face  had  changed,  "  you  are 
incorrigible.  For  years  we  have  been 
trying  to  make  you  a  really  good  and 
wise  man,  both  by  example  and  precept, 
and  you  are  distinctly  worse  than  when 


THE   RABBI    AS   CONFESSOR.  95 

we  began — more  lazy,  miserly,  and  un- 
charitable.    It  is  very  disheartening. 

"  Can  you  receive  another  tramp  and 
give  him  a  bed?  for  I  am  in  low  spirits, 
and  so,  like  every  other  person  in 
trouble,  I  come  to  you,  you  dear  old 
saint,  and  already  I  feel  a  better  man." 

"  Receive  you,  John?  It  is  doubtless 
selfish,  but  it  is  not  given  to  you  to  know 
how  I  weary  to  see  your  face,  and  we 
shall  have  much  converse  together — 
there  are  some  points  I  would  like  your 
opinion  on — but  first  of  all,  after  a  slight 
refreshment,  we  must  go  to  Mains:  be- 
hold the  aid  to  memory  I  have  designed" 
— and  the  Rabbi  pointed  to  a  large 
square  of  paper  hung  above  Chrysostom, 
with  "  Farewell,  George  Pitillo,  3 
o'clock."  "  He  is  the  son's  son  of  my 
benefactor,  and  he  leaves  his  father's 
house  this  day  to  go  into  a  strange  land 


96  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

across  the  sea:  I  had  a  service  last  night 
at  Mains,  and  expounded  the  departure 
of  Abraham,  but  only  slightly,  being 
somewhat  affected  through  the  weak- 
ness of  the  flesh.  There  was  a  covenant 
made  between  the  young  man  and  my- 
self, that  I  should  meet  him  at  the  cross- 
ing of  the  roads  to-day,  and  it  is  in  my 
mind  to  leave  a  parable  with  him  against 
the  power  of  this  present  world." 

Then  the  Rabbi  fell  into  a  meditation 
till  the  dog-cart  came  up,  Mains  and  his 
wife  in  the  front  and  George  alone  in  the 
back,  making  a  brave  show  of  indiffer- 
ence. 

"  George,"  said  the  Rabbi,  looking 
across  the  field  and  speaking  as  to  him- 
self, "  we  shall  not  meet  again  in  this 
world,  and  in  a  short  space  they  will  bury 
me  in  Kilbogie  kirkyard,  but  it  will  not 
be  in  me  to  lie  still  for  thinking  of  the 


"we  shall  not  meet  again  in  this  world" 


THE   RABBI    AS   CONFESSOR.  99 

people  I  have  loved.  So  it  will  come  to 
pass  that  I  may  rise — you  have  ears  to 
understand,  George — and  I  will  inquire 
of  him  that  taketh  charge  of  the  dead 
abofit  many  and  how  it  fares  with  them. 

'^And  George  Pitillo,  what  of  him, 
Andrew? 

"'Oh, it's  a  peety  youdidna  live  langer, 
Mr.  Saunderson,  for  George  hes  risen  in 
the  warld  and  made  a  great  fortune.' 

"  How  does  it  go  with  his  soul,  An- 
drew? 

"  '  Well,  you  see.  Mister  Saunderson, 
George  hes  hed  many  things  to  think 
about,  and  he  maybe  hasna  hed  time  for 
releegion  yet,  but  nae  doot  he'll  be 
turnin'  his  mind  that  wy  soon.' 

"  Poor  George,  that  I  baptized  and 
admitted  to  the  Sacrament  and  .  .  . 
loved:  exchanged  his  soul  for  the  world." 

The  sun  was  setting  fast,  and  the  land- 


loo  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

scape — bare  stubble-fields,  leafless  trees, 
still  water,  long,  empty  road — was  of  a 
blood-red  color  fearsome  to  behold,  so 
that  no  one  spake,  and  the  horse  chafing 
his  bit  made  the  only  sound. 

Then  the  Rabbi  began  again. 

"And  George  Pitillo — tell  me,  An- 
drew ? 

"  '  Weel,  ye  see,  Mister  Saunderson, 
ye  wud  be  sorry  for  him,  for  you  and  he 
were  aye  chief;  he's  keepit  a  gude  name 
an'  workit  hard,  but  hesna  made  muckle 
o'  this  warld.' 

"  And  his  soul,  Andrew? 

"  '  Oo,  that's  a'  richt;  gin  we  a'  hed  as 
gude  a  chance  for  the  next  warld  as 
George  Pitillo  we  micht  be  satisfied.' 

"That  is  enough  for  his  old  friend; 
hap  me  over  again,  Andrew,  and  I'll  rest 
in  peace  till  the  trumpet  sound." 

Carmichael  turned  aside,  but  he  heard 


THE    RABBI    AS   CONFESSOR.        loi 

something  desperately  like  a  sob  from 
the  back  of  the  dog-cart,  and  the  Rabbi 
saying,  "  God  be  with  you,  George,  and 
as  your  father's  father  received  me  in  the 
day; of  my  sore  discouragement,  so^  may 
the  Lord  God  of  Israel  open  a  door  for 
you  in  every  land  whithersoever  you  go, 
and  bring  you  in  at  last  through  the 
gates  into  the  city."  The  Rabbi  watched 
George  till  the  dog-cart  faded  away  into 
the  dusk  of  the  winter's  day,  and  they 
had  settled  for  the  night  in  their  places 
among  the  books  before  the  Rabbi 
spoke. 

It  was  with  a  wistful  tenderness  that 
he  turned  to  Carmichael  and  touched 
him  slightly  with  his  hand,  as  was  a 
fashion  with  the  Rabbi. 

"  You  will  not  think  me  indififerent  to 
your  welfare  because  I  have  not  inquired 
about  your  afifairs,  for  indeed  this  could 


I02  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

not  be,  but  the  going  forth  of  this  lad  has 
tried  my  heart.  Is  there  aught,  John, 
that  it  becometh  you  to  tell  me,  and 
wherein  my  years  can  be  of  any  avail?" 

"  It  is  not  about  doctrine  I  wished  to 
speak  to  you,  Rabbi,  although  I  am 
troubled  thus  also,  but  about  .  .  .  you 
remember  our  talk." 

"  About  the  maid — surely;  I  cannot 
forget  her,  and  indeed  often  think  of  her 
since  the  day  you  brought  me  to  her 
house  and  made  me  known  unto  her, 
which  was  much  courtesy  to  one  who  is 
fitter  for  a  bookroom  than  a  woman's 
company. 

"  She  is  fair  of  face  and  hath  a  pleasant 
manner,  and  surely  beauty  and  a  win- 
some way  are  from  God;  there  seemed 
also  a  certain  contempt  of  baseness  and  a 
strength  of  will  which  are  excellent.  Per- 
haps my  judgment  is  not  even  because 


THE    RABBI    AS   CONFESSOR.        103 

Miss  Carnegie  was  gracious  to  me,  and 
yoti  know,  John,  it  is  not  in  me  to  resist 
kindness,  but  this  is  how  she  seems  to 
me.     Has   there   been   trouble   between 

youi?  " 

"  Do  not  misunderstand  me.  Rabbi;  I 
have  not  spoken  one  word  of  love  to  .  .  . 
Miss  Carnegie,  nor  she  to  me;  but  I  love 
her,  and  I  thought  that  perhaps  she  saw 
that  I  loved  her.  But  now  it  looks  as  if 
.  .  .  what  I  hoped  is  never  to  be  ";  and 
Carmichael  told  how  Kate  had  risen  and 
left  the  church  in  hot  wrath  because  he 
had  compared  Queen  Mary  to  Jezebel. 

"  Is  it  not  marvelous,"  mused  the 
Rabbi,  looking  into  the  fire,  "  how  one 
woman,  who  was  indeed  at  the  time  little 
more  than  a  girl,  did  carry  men,  many  of 
them  wise  and  clever,  away  as  with  a 
flood,  and  still  divideth  scholars  and 
even  .  .  .  friends? 


I04  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

"  It  was  not  fitting  that  Miss  Carnegie 
should  have  left  God's  house  in  heat  of 
temper,  and  it  seemeth  to  us  that  she 
hath  a  wrong  reading  of  history,  but  it 
is  surely  good  that  she  hath  her  convic- 
tions, and  holdeth  them  fast  like  a  brave 
maid. 

"  Is  it  not  so,  John,  that  friends,  and 
doubtless  also  .  .  .  lovers,  have  been 
divided  by  conscience,  and  have  been  on 
opposite  sides  in  the  great  conflict,  and 
doth  not  this  show  how  much  of  con- 
science there  is  among  men? 

"  It  may  be  this  dispute  will  not  divide 
you — being  now,  as  it  were,  more  an 
argument  of  the  schools  than  a  matter 
of  principle — but  if  it  should  appear  that 
you  are  far  apart  on  the  greater  matters 
of  faith,  then  .  .  .  you  will  have  a  heavy 
cross  to  carry.  But  it  is  my  mind  that 
the  heart  of  the  maiden  is  right,  and  that 


THE   RABBI    AS   CONFESSOR.        105 

I  may  some  day  see  her  ...  in  your 
home,  whereat  my  eyes  would  be 
glad." 

The  Rabbi  was  so  taken  up  wi-th  the 
matter  that  he  barely  showed  Carmichael 
a  fine  copy  of  John  of  Damascus  he  had 
secured  from  London,  and  went  out  of 
his  course  at  worship  to  read,  as  well  as 
to  expound  with  much  feeling,  the  story 
of  Ruth  the  Moabitess,  showing  conclu- 
sively that  she  had  in  her  a  high  spirit, 
and  that  she  was  designed  of  God  to  be 
a  strength  to  the  house  of  David.  He 
was  also  very  cheerful  in  the  morning, 
and  bade  Carmichael  good-by  at  Tochty 
woods  with  encouraging  words.  He 
also  agreed  to  assist  his  boy  at  the  Drum- 
tochty  sacrament. 

It  was  evident  that  the  Rabbi's  mind 
was  much  set  on  this  visit,  but  Car- 
michael did  not  for  giie  moment  depend 


io6  RABBI   SAUNDERSON. 

upon  his  remembering  the  day,  and  so 
Biirnbrae  started  early  on  the  Saturday 
with  his  dog-cart  to  bring  Saunderson 
up  and  deposit  him  without  fail  in  the 
Free  Kirk  manse  of  Drumtochty.  Six 
times  that  day  did  the  minister  leave  his 
"  action  "  sermon  and  take  his  way  to 
the  guest-room,  carrying  such  works  as 
might  not  be  quite  unsuitable  for  the  old 
scholar's  perusal,  and  arranging  a  lamp 
of  easy  management,  that  the  night 
hours  might  not  be  lost.  It  was  late  in 
the  afternoon  before  the  Rabbi  was  de- 
livered at  the  manse,  and  Burnbrae  gave 
explanations  next  day  at  the  sacra- 
mental dinner. 

"  It  wes  just  ten  when  a'  got  tae  the 
manse  o'  Kilbogie,  an'  his  hoosekeeper 
didna  ken  whar  her  maister  wes;  he 
micht  be  in  Kildrummie  by  that  time, 
she  said,  or  halfway  tae  Muirtown.     So 


THE    RABBI    AS   CONFESSOR.        107 

a'  set  oot  an'  ransackit  the  parish  till  a' 
got  him,  an'  gin  he  wesna  sittin'  in  a 
bothie  takin'  brose  wi'  the  plowmen,  an' 
expoundin'  Scripture  a'  the  time. 

"  He  startit  on  the  ancient  martyrs 
afore  we  were  half  a  mile  on  the  road, 
and  he  gied  ae  testimony  aifter  anither, 
an'  he  wesna  within  sicht  o'  the  Refor- 
mation when  we  cam'  tae  the  hooses;  a'll 
no  deny  that  a'  let  the  mare  walk  bits  o' 
the  road,  for  a'  cuid  hae  heard  him  a' 
nicht;  ma  bhiid's  warmer  yet,  freends." 

The  Rabbi  arrived  in  great  spirits,  and 
refused  to  taste  meat  till  he  had  stated 
the  burden  of  his  sermon  for  the  mor- 
row. 

"  If  the  Lord  hath  opened  our  ears  the 
servant  must  declare  what  has  been 
given  him,  but  I  prayed  that  the  message 
sent  through  me  to  your  flock,  John, 
might    be    love.      It    hath    pleased    the 


io8  RABBI   SAUNDERSON, 

Great  Shepherd  that  I  should  lead  the 
sheep  by  strange  paths,  but  I  desired 
that  it  be  otherwise  when  I  came  for  the 
first  time  to  Drumtochty. 

"  Two  days  did  I  spend  in  the  woods, 
for  the  stillness  of  winter  among  the 
trees  leaveth  the  mind  disengaged  for 
the  Divine  word,  and  the  first  day  my 
soul  was  heavy  as  I  returned,  for  this 
only  was  laid  upon  me,  '  vessels  of  wrath, 
fitted  to  destruction.'  And,  John,  albeit 
God  would  doubtless  have  given  me 
strength  according  to  His  will,  yet  I  was 
loath  to  bear  this  awful  truth  to  the 
people  of  your  charge. 

"  Next  day  the  sun  was  shining  pleas- 
antly in  the  wood,  and  it  came  to  me 
that  clouds  had  gone  from  the  face  of 
God,  and  as  I  wandered  among  the  trees 
a  squirrel  sat  on  a  branch  within  reach  of 
my  hand  and  did  not  flee.     Then  I  heard 


THE    RABBI    AS   CONFESSOR.        109 

a  voice,  '  I  have  loved  thee  with  an  ever- 
lasting love,  therefore  with  loving-kind- 
ness have  I  drawn  thee.' 

"  It  was,  in  an  instant,  my  hope  that 
this  might  be  God's  word  by  me,  but  I 
knew  not  it  was  so  till  the  Evangel 
opened  up  on  all  sides,  and  I  was  led  into 
the  outgoings  of  the  eternal  love  after  so 
moving  a  fashion  that  I  dared  tO'  think 
that  grace  might  be  effectual  even  with 
me  .  .  .  with  me. 

"  God  opened  my  mouth  on  Sabbath 
on  this  text  unto  my  own  flock,  and  the 
word  was  not  void.  It  is  little  that  can 
be  said  on  sovereign  love  in  two  hours 
and  it  may  be  a  few  minutes;  yet  even 
this  may  be  more  than  your  people  are 
minded  to  bear.  So  I  shall  pretermit 
certain  notes  on  doctrine;  for  you  will 
doubtless  have  given  much  instruction 
on  the  purposes  of  God,  and  very  likely 


no  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

may  be  touching  on  that  mystery  in  your 
action  sermon." 

During  the  evening  the  Rabbi  was 
very  genial — tasting  Sarah's  viands  with 
relish,  and  comparing  her  to  Rebekah, 
who  made  savory  meat,  urging  Car- 
michael  to  smoke  without  scruple,  and 
allowing  himself  to  snuff  three  times, 
examining  the  bookshelves  with  keen 
appreciation,  and  finally  departing  with 
three  volumes  of  modern  divinity  under 
his  arm,  to  re-enforce  the  selection  in  his 
room,  "  lest  his  eyes  should  be  held  wak- 
ing in  the  night  watches."  He  was 
much  overcome  by  the  care  that  had 
been  taken  for  his  comfort,  and  at  the 
door  of  his  room  blessed  his  boy:  "  May 
the  Lord  give  you  the  sleep  of  His  be- 
loved, and  strengthen  you  to  declare  all 
His  truth  on  the  morrow."  Carmichael 
sat  by  his  study  fire  for  a  while  and  went 


THE    RABBI    AS   CONFESSOR.        iii 

to  bed  much  cheered,  nor  did  he  dream 
that  there  was  to  be  a  second  catastrophe 
in  the  Free  Kirk  of  Drumtochty  which 
would  be  far  sadder  than  the  offending  of 
Mi|s  Carnegie  about  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots,  and  would  leave  in  one  heart  life- 
long regret. 


THE   FEAR   OF   GOD. 


THE   FEAR    OF   GOD. 

IT  was  the  way  of  the  Free  Kirk  that 
the  assisting  minister  at  the  Sacra- 
ment should  sit  behind  the  Communion 
Table  during  the  sermon,  and  the  con- 
gregation, without  giving  the  faintest 
sign  of  observation,  could  estimate  its 
efifect  on  his  face.  When  Dr.  Dowbig- 
gin  composed  himself  to  listen  as  became 
a  Church  leader  of  substantial  build — his 
hands  folded  before  him  and  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  far  window — and  was  so 
arrested  by  the  opening  passage  of  Cun- 
ningham's sermon  on  Justification  by 
Faith  that  he  visibly  started,  and  after- 
ward sat  sideways  with  his  ears  cocked, 

Drumtochty,  while  doubtful  whether  any 

115 


ii6  RABBI   SAUNDERSON. 

Muirtown  man  could  appreciate  the 
subtlety  of  their  minister,  had  a  higher 
idea  of  the  Doctor;  and  when  the  Free 
Kirk  minister  of  Kildrummie — a  stout 
man  and  given  to  agricultural  pursuits — 
went  fast  asleep  under  a  masterly  discus- 
sion of  the  priesthood  of  Melchizedek, 
Drumtochty's  opinio'U  of  the  intellectual 
condition  of  Kildrummie  was  confirmed 
beyond  argument. 

During  his  ministry  of  more  than 
twenty  years  the  Rabbi  had  never 
preached  at  Drumtochty — being  fearful 
that  he  might  injure  the  minister  who 
invited  him,  or  that  he  might  be  so  re- 
stricted in  time  as  to  lead  astray  by  ill- 
balanced  statements — and  as  the  keenest 
curiosity  would  never  have  induced  any 
man  to  go  from  the  Glen  to  worship  in 
another  parish,  the  Free  Kirk  minister  of 
Kilbogie  was  still   unjudged   in   Drum- 


THE    FEAR   OF   GOD.  117 

tochty.  They  were  not  sorry  to  have 
the  opportunity  at  last,  for  they  had  suf- 
fered not  a  Uttle  at  the  hands  of  Kilbogie 
in  past  years,  and  the  coming  event  dis- 
turbed the  flow  of  business  at  Muirtown 
market. 

"  Ye're  tae  hae  the  Doctor  at  laist," 
Mains  said  to  Netberton — letting  the 
luck-penny  on  a  transaction  in  seed-corn, 
stand  over — "  an'  a'm  jidgin'  the  time's 
no  been  lost.  He's  plainer  an'  easier  tae 
follow  then  he  wes  at  the  affgo.  Ma 
word  " — contemplating  the  exercise  be- 
fore the  Glen — "but  ye'll  aye  get  eneuch 
here  and  there  tae  cairry  hame."  Which 
shows  what  a  man  the  Rabbi  was,  that  on 
the  strength  of  his  possession  a  parish 
like  Kilbogie  could  speak  after  this 
fashion  to  Drumtochty. 

"He'll  hae  a  fair  trial,  Mains"— 
Netherton's  tone  was  distinctly  severe — 


ii8  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

"  an'  mony  a  trial  he's  hed  in  his  day, 
they  say:  wes't  three-an'-twenty  kirks  he 
preached  in  afore  ye  took  him?  But 
mind  ye,  length's  nae  standard  in  Drum- 
tochty;  na,  na,  it's  no  hoo  muckle  wind 
a  man  hes,  but  what  like  is  the  stuff  that 
comes.  It's  bushels  doon  bye,  but  it's 
wecht  up  bye." 

Any  prejudice  against  the  Rabbi, 
created  by  the  boasting  of  a  foolish 
parish  not  worthy  of  him,  was  reduced 
by  his  venerable  appearance  before  the 
pulpit,  and  quite  dispelled  by  his  un- 
feigned delight  in  Carmichael's  conduct 
of  the  "  preliminaries."  Twice  he 
nodded  approval  to  the  reading  of  the 
hundredth  Psalm,  and  although  he  stood 
with  covered  face  during  the  prayer,  he 
emerged  full  of  sympathy.  As  his  boy 
read  the  fifty-third  of  Isaiah  the  old  man 
was  moved  well-nigh  to  tears,   and  on 


THE   FEAR   OF   GOD.  119 

the  giving  out  of  the  text,  from  the 
parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  the  Rabbi 
closed  his  eyes  with  great  expectation, 
as  one  about  to  be  fed  with  the  finest  of 
the  /wheat. 

Carmichael  has  kept  the  sermon  unto 
this  dav,  and  as  often  as  he  finds  himself 
growing  hard  or  supercilious,  reads  it 
from  beginning  to  end.  It  is  his  hair- 
shirt,  to  be  worn  from  time  to  time  next 
his  soul  for  the  wrongness  in  it  and  the 
mischief  it  did.  He  cannot  understand 
how  he  could  have  said  such  things  on  a 
Sacrament  morning  and  in  the  presence 
of  the  Rabbi,  but  indeed  they  were  inevi- 
table. When  two  tides  meet  there  is 
ever  a  cruel  commotion,  and  ships  are 
apt  to  be  dashed  on  the  rocks,  and  Car- 
michael's  mind  was  in  a  "  jabble  "  that 
day.  The  new  culture,  with  its  wider 
views  of  God  and  man,  was  fighting  with 


I20  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

the  robust  Calvinism  in  which  every  Scot 
is  saturated,  and  the  result  was  neither 
peace  nor  charity.  Personally  the  lad 
was  kindly  and  good-natured;  intellectu- 
ally he  had  become  arrogant,  intolerant, 
acrid,  flinging  out  at  old-fashioned 
views,  giving  quite  unnecessary  chal- 
lenges, arguing  with  imaginary  antago- 
nists. It  has  ever  seemed  to  me,  al- 
though I  suppose  that  history  is  against 
me,  that  if  it  be  laid  on  anyone  to  advo- 
cate a  new  view  that  will  startle  people, 
he  ought  of  all  men  to  be  conciliatory 
and  persuasive;  but  Carmichael  was,  at 
least  in  this  time  of  fermentation,  very 
exasperating  and  pugnacious,  and  so  he 
drove  the  Rabbi  to  the  only  hard  action 
of  his  life,  wherein  the  old  man  suffered 
most,  and  which  may  be  said  to  have  led 
to  his  death. 

Carmichael,    like   the   Rabbi,    had  in- 


THE   FEAR   OF   GOD.  121 

tended  to  preach  that  morning  on  the 
love  of  God,  and  thought  he  was  doing 
so  with  some  power.  What  he  did  was 
to  take  the  Fatherhood  of  God  and  use 
it  as  a  stick  to  beat  Pharisees  with,  and 
under  Pharisees  it  appeared  as  if  he  in- 
cluded every  person  who  still  believed 
in  the  inflexible  action  of  the  moral  laws 
and  the  austere  majesty  of  God.  Many 
good  things  he  no  doubt  said,  but  each 
had  an  edge,  and  it  cut  deeply  into 
people  of  the  old  school.  Had  he  seen 
the  Rabbi,  it  would  not  have  been  pos- 
sible for  him  to  continue;  but  he  only 
was  conscious  of  Lachlan  Campbell,  with 
whom  he  had  then  a  feud,  and  who,  he 
imagined,  had  come  to  criticise  him.  So 
he  went  on  his  rasping  way  that  Sacra- 
ment morning,  as  when  one  harrows  the 
spring  earth  with  iron  teeth,  exciting 
himself    with    every    sentence    to    fresh 


122  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

crudities  of  thought  and  extravagances 
of  opposition.  But  it  only  flashed  on 
him  that  he  had  spoken  foohshly  when 
he  came  down  from  the  pulpit,  and 
found  the  Rabbi  a  shrunken  figure  in  his 
chair  before  the  Holy  Table. 

Discerning  people,  like  Elspeth  Mac- 
fadyen,  saw  the  whole  tragedy  from  be- 
ginning to  end,  and  felt  the  pity  of  it 
keenly.  For  a  while  the  Rabbi  waited 
with  fond  confidence — for  was  not  he  to 
hear  the  best-loved  of  his  boys? — and  he 
caught  eagerly  at  a  gracious  expression, 
as  if  it  had  fallen  from  one  of  the  fathers. 
Anything  in  the  line  of  faith  would  have 
pleased  the  Rabbi  that  day,  who  was  as 
a  little  child,  and  full  of  charity,  in  spite 
of  his  fierce  doctrines.  By  and  by  the 
light  died  away  from  his  eyes  as  when  a 
cloud  comes  over  the  face  of  the  sun 
and  the   Glen  grows   cold   and   dreary. 


:'!i.!!,i  L 


WHEN   CARMICHAEL  GAVE   HIM  THE   CUP  IN   THE 
SACRAMENT 


THE    FEAR   OF    GOD.  125 

He  opened  his  eyes  and  was  amazed, 
looking  at  the  people  and  questioning 
them  what  had  happened  to  their  minis- 
ter. Suddenly  he  flushed  as  a  person 
strjLick  by  a  friend,  and  then,  as  one  blow 
followed  another,  he  covered  his  face 
with  both  hands,  sinking  lower  and 
lower  in  his  chair,  till  even  that  decorous 
people  were  almost  shaken  in  their  at- 
tention. 

When  Carmichael  gave  him  the  cup 
in  the  Sacrament  the  Rabbi's  hand  shook 
and  he  spilled  some  drops  of  the  wine 
upon  his  beard,  which  all  that  day 
showed  like  blood  on  the  silvery  white- 
ness. Afterward  he  spake  in  his  turn  to 
the  communicants,  and  distinguished  the 
true  people  of  God  from  the  multitude — 
to  whom  he  held  out  no  hope — by  so 
many  and  stringent  marks  that  Donald 
Menzies  refused  the  Sacrament  with  a 


126  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

lamentable  groan.  And  when  the  Sac- 
rament was  over,  and  the  time  came  for 
Carmichael  to  shake  hands  with  the 
assisting  minister  in  the  vestry,  the  Rabbi 
had  vanished,  and  he  had  no  speech  with 
him  till  they  went  through  the  garden 
together — very  bleak  it  seemed  in  the 
winter  dusk — unto  the  sermon  that 
closed  the  services  of  the  day. 

"  God's  hand  is  heavy  in  anger  on  us 
both  this  day,  John,"  and  Carmichael 
was  arrested  by  the  awe  and  sorrow  in 
the  Rabbi's  voice,  "  else  .  .  .  you  had 
not  spoken  as  you  did  this  forenoon,  nor 
would  necessity  be  laid  on  me  to  speak 
...  as  I  must  this  night. 

"  His  ways  are  all  goodness  and  truth, 
but  they  are  oftentimes  encompassed 
with  darkness,  and  the  burden  He  has 
laid  on  me  is  .  .  .  almost  more  than  I  can 
bear;  it  will  be  heavy  for  you  also. 


THE    FEAR    OF    GOD.  127 

*'  You  will  drink  the  wine  of  astonish- 
ment this  night,  and  it  will  be  strange  if 
you  do  not  .  .  .  turn  from  the  hand  that 
pours  it  out,  but  you  will  not  refuse  the 
truth  or  .  .  .  hate  the  preacher";  and 
at  the  vestry  door  the  Rabbi  looked  wist- 
fully at  Carmichael. 

During  the  interval  the  lad  had  been 
ill  at  ease,  suspecting  from  the  Rabbi's 
manner  at  the  Table,  and  the  solemnity 
of  his  address,  that  he  disapproved  of  the 
action  sermon,  but  he  did  not  for  a  mo- 
ment imagine  that  the  situation  was 
serious.  It  is  one  of  the  disabilities  of 
good-natured  and  emotional  people, 
without  much  deepness  of  earth,  to  be- 
little the  convictions  and  resolutions  of 
strong  natures,  and  to  suppose  that  they 
can  be  talked  away  by  a  few  pleasant, 
coaxing  words. 

The  Rabbi  had  often  yielded  to  Car- 


128  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

michael  and  his  other  boys  in  the  ordi- 
nary affairs  of  Hfe — in  meat  and  drink 
and  clothing,  even  untO'  the  continuance 
of  his  snuffing.  He  had  been  most  man- 
ageable and  pliable — as  a  child  in  their 
hands — and  so  Carmichael  was  quite 
confident  that  he  could  make  matters 
right  with  the  old  man  about  a  question 
of  doctrine  as  easily  as  about  the  duty  of 
a  midday  meal.  Certain  bright  and 
superficial  people  will  only  learn  by  some 
solitary  experience  that  faith  is  reserved 
in  friendship,  and  that  the  most  heroic 
souls  are  those  which  count  all  things 
dross — even  the  smile  of  those  they  love 
— for  the  eternal.  For  a  moment  Carmi- 
chael was  shaken  as  if  a  new  Rabbi  were 
before  him;  then  he  remembered  the 
study  of  Kilbogie,  and  all  things  that  had 
happened  therein,  and  his  spirits  rose. 
"  How  dare  you  suggest  such  wicked- 


THE    FEAR   OF   GOD.  129 

ness,  Rabbi,  that  any  of  us  should  ever 
criticise  or  complain  of  anything  you 
say?  Whatever  you  give  us  will  be 
right,  and  do  us  good,  and  in  the  evening 
yoiji  will  tell  me  all  I  said  wrong." 

Saunderson  looked  at  Carmichael  for 
ten  seconds  as  one  who  has  not  been 
understood,  and  sighed.  Then  he  went 
down  the  kirk  after  the  beadle,  and  the 
people  marked  how  he  walked  like  a 
man  who  was  afraid  he  might  fall,  and, 
turning  a  corner,  he  supported  himself  on 
the  end  of  a  pew.  As  he  crept  up  the 
pulpit  stairs  Elspeth  gave  her  husband  a 
look,  and,  although  well  accustomed  to 
the  slowness  of  his  understanding,  was 
amazed  that  he  did  not  catch  the  point. 
Even  a  man  might  have  seen  that  this 
was  not  the  same  minister  that  came  in 
to  the  Sacrament  with  hope  in  his  very 
step. 


I30  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

"  A'm  no  here  tae  say  '  that  a'  kent 
what  wes  comin'  '  " — Elspeth,  like  all 
experts,  was  strictly  truthful — "  for  the 
like  o'  that  was  never  heard  in  Drum- 
tochty,  and  noo  that  Dr.  Saunderson 
is  awa',  will  never  be  heard  again  in  Scot- 
land. A'  jaloused  that  vials  wud  be 
opened  an'  a'  wesna  wrang,  but  ma 
certes  " — and  that  remarkable  woman 
left  you  to  understand  that  no  words  in 
human  speech  could  even  hint  at  the 
contents  of  the  vials. 

When  the  Rabbi  gave  out  his  text, 
"  Vessels  of  wrath,"  in  a  low,  awestruck 
voice,  Carmichael  began  to  be  afraid,  but 
after  a  little  he  chid  himself  for  foolish- 
ness. During  half  an  hour  the  Rabbi 
traced  the  doctrine  of  the  Divine  Sov- 
ereignty through  Holy  Scripture  with  a 
characteristic  wealth  of  allusion  to 
Fathers  ancient  and  reforming,  and  once 


THE   FEAR   OF   GOD.  131 

or  twice  he  paused,  as  if  he  would  have 
taken  up  certain  matters  at  greater 
length,  but  restrained  himself,  simply- 
asserting  the  Pauline  character  of  St. 
Augustine's  thinking,  and  exposing  the 
looseness  of  Clement  of  Alexandria  with 
a  wave  of  the  hand,  as  one  hurrying  on 
to  his  destination. 

"  Dear  old  Rabbi  " — Carmichael  con- 
gratulated himself  in  his  pew — "  what 
need  he  have  made  so  many  apologies 
for  his  subject?  He  is  going  to  enjoy 
himself,  and  he  is  sure  to  say  something 
beautiful  before  he  is  done."  But  he 
was  distinctly  conscious  all  the  same  of 
a  wish  that  the  Rabbi  were  done  and 
all  .  .  .  well,  uncertainty  over.  For  there 
was  a  note  of  anxiety,  almost  of  horror, 
in  the  Rabbi's  voice,  and  he  had  not  let 
the  Fathers  go  so  lightly  unless  under 
severe  constraint.    What  was  it?    Surely 


132  RABBI    SAUNDERSON, 

he  would  not  attack  their  minister  in 
face  of  his  people.  .  .  The  Rabbi  do 
that,  who  was  in  all  his  ways  a  gentle- 
man? Yet  .  .  .  and  then  the  Rabbi 
abruptly  quitted  historical  exposition 
and  announced  that  he  would  speak  on 
four  heads.  Carmichael,  from  his  cor- 
ner behind  the  curtains,  saw  the  old  man 
twice  open  his  mouth  as  if  to  speak,  and 
when  at  last  he  began  he  was  quivering 
visibly,  and  he  had  grasped  the  outer 
'corners  of  the  desk  with  such  intensity 
that  the  tassels  which  hung  therefrom — 
one  of  the  minor  glories  of  the  Free  Kirk 
— were  held  in  the  palm  of  his  hand,  the 
long  red  tags  escaping  from  between  his 
white  wasted  fingers.  A  pulpit  lamp 
came  between  Carmichael  and  the 
Rabbi's  face,  but  he  could  see  the  strain- 
ing hand,  which  did  not  relax  till  it  was 
lifted  in  the  last  awful  appeal,  and  the 


THE    FEAR   OF   GOD.  133 

white  and  red  had  a  grewsome  fascina- 
tion. It  seemed  as  if  one  had  ckitched  a 
cluster  of  full,  rich,  tender  grapes  and 
was  pressing  them  in  an  agony  till  their 
life  ran  out  in  streams  of  blood,  and 
dripped  upon  the  heads  of  the  choir  sit- 
ting beneath,  in  their  fresh,  hopeful 
youth.  And  it  also  came  to  Carmichael 
with  pathetic  conviction  even  then  that 
everyone  was  about  to  suffer,  but  the 
Rabbi  more  than  them  all  together. 
While  the  preacher  was  strengthening 
his  heart  for  the  work  before  him,  Car- 
michael's  eye  was  attracted  by  the  land- 
scape that  he  could  see  through  the 
opposite  window.  The  ground  sloped 
upward  from  the  kirk  to  a  pine-wood 
that  fringed  the  great  moor,  and  it  was 
covered  with  snow,  on  which  the  moon 
was  beginning  to  shed  her  faint,  weird 
light.     Within,  the  light  from  the  up- 


134  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

right  lamps  was  falling  on  the  ruddy, 
contented  faces  of  men  and  women  and 
little  children,  but  without  it  was  one 
cold,  merciless  whiteness,  like  unto  the 
justice  of  God,  with  black  shadows  of 
judgment. 

"  This  is  the  message  which  I  have  to 
deliver  unto  you  in  the  name  of  the  Lord, 
and  even  as  Jonah  was  sent  to  Nineveh 
after  a  strange  discipline  with  a  word  of 
mercy,  so  am  I  constrained  against  my 
will  to  carry  a  word  of  searching  and 
trembling. 

"  First  " — and  between  the  heads  the 
Rabbi  paused  as  one  whose  breath  had 
failed  him — "  every  man  belongs  abso- 
lutely to  God  by  his  creation. 

"  Second.  The  purpose  of  God  about 
€ach  man  precedes  his  creation. 

"  Third.  Some  are  destined  to  Salva- 
tion, and  some  to  Damnation. 


THE    FEAR    OF    GOD.  135 

"  Fourth  " — here  the  hard  breathing- 
became  a  sob — "  each  man's  lot  is  unto 
the  glory  of  God." 

It  was  not  only  skilled  theologians 
like  Lachlan  Campbell  and  Burnbrae, 
but  even  mere  amateurs,  who  understood 
that  they  were  that  night  to  be  con- 
ducted to  the  farthest  limit  of  Calvinism, 
and  that,  whoever  fell  behind  through 
the  hardness  of  the  way,  their  guide 
would  not  flinch. 

As  the  Rabbi  gave  the  people  a  brief 
space  wherein  to  grasp  his  heads  in  their 
significance,  Carmichael  remembered  a 
vivid  incident  in  the  Presbytery  of  Muir- 
town,  when  an  English  evangelist  had 
addressed  that  reverend  and  austere 
court  with  exhilarating  confidence — ex- 
plaining the  extreme  simplicity  of  the 
Christian  faith,  and  showing  how  a  min- 
ister  ought   to  preach.     Various   good 


136  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

men  were  delighted,  and  asked  many 
questions  of  the  evangeHst — who  had 
kept  a  baby-linen  shop  for  twenty  years, 
and  was  unspoiled  by  the  slightest  trace 
of  theology — but  the  Rabbi  arose  and 
demolished  his  "  teaching,"  convicting 
him  of  heresy  at  every  turn,  till  there  was 
not  left  one  stone  upon  another. 

"  But  surely  fear  belongs  to  the  Old 
Testament  dispensation  and  is  now  done 
away  with,"  said  the  unabashed  little 
man  to  the  Rabbi  afterward.  "  '  Re- 
joice,' you  know,  my  friend,  '  and  again 
1  say.  Rejoice  ' — that  is  the  New  Testa- 
ment note." 

"  If  it  be  the  will  of  God  that  such  a 
man  as  I  should  ever  stand  on  the  sea  of 
glass  mingled  with  fire,  then  this  tongue 
will  be  lifted  with  the  best,  but  so  long  as 
my  feet  are  still  in  the  fearful  pit  it  be- 
Cometh  me  to  bow  mv  head." 


THE    FEAR   OF   GOD.  137 

"  Then  3^011  don't  believe  in  assur- 
ance? "  But  already  the  evangelist  was 
quailing  before  the  Rabbi. 

''  Verily  there  is  no  man  that  hath  not 
heard  of  that  precious  gift,  and  none  who 
does  not  covet  it  greatly,  but  there  be 
two  degrees  of  assurance  " — here  the 
Rabbi  looked  sternly  at  the  happy,  ro- 
tund little  figure — "  and  it  is  with  the 
first  you  must  begin,  and  what  you 
need  to  get  is  assurance  of  your  dam- 
nation." 

One  of  the  boys  read  an  account  of 
this  incident — thinly  veiled — in  a  re- 
ported address  of  the  evangelist,  in 
which  the  Rabbi — being,  as  it  was  in- 
ferred, beaten  in  Scriptural  argument — 
was  very  penitent  and  begged  his 
teacher's  pardon  with  streaming  tears. 
What  really  happened  was  different,  and 
so  absolutely  conclusive  that  Dr.  Dow- 


138  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

biggin  gave  it  as  his  opinion  "  that  a 
valuable  lesson  had  been  read  to  un- 
authorized teachers  of  religion." 

Carmichael  recognized  the  same  note 
in  the  sermon  and  saw  ajiother  man  than 
he  knew,  as  the  Rabbi,  in  a  low  voice, 
without  heat  or  declamation,  with  fre- 
quent pauses  and  labored  breathing,  as 
of  one  toiling  up  a  hill,  argued  the  abso- 
lute supremacy  of  God  and  the  utter 
helplessness  of  man.  One  hand  ever 
pressed  the  grapes,  but  with  the  other 
the  old  man  wiped  the  perspiration  that 
rolled  in  beads  down  his  face.  A  painful 
stillness  fell  on  the  people  as  they  felt 
themselves  caught  in  the  meshes  of  this 
inexorable  net  and  dragged  ever  nearer 
to  the  abyss.  Carmichael,  who  had  been 
leaning  forward  in  his  place,  tore  himself 
away  from  the  preacher  with  an  effort, 
and  moved  where  he  could  see  the  con- 


THE   FEAR   OF   GOD.  139 

gregation.  Campbell  was  drinking  in 
every  word  as  one  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life  perfectly  satisfied.  Menzies  was 
huddled  into  a  heap  in  the  top  of  his  pew, 
a  ^an  justly  blasted  by  the  anger  of  the 
Eternal.  Men  were  white  beneath  the 
tan,  and  it  was  evident  that  some  of  the 
women  would  soon  fall  a-weeping.  Chil- 
dren had  crept  close  to  their  mothers 
under  a  vague  sense  of  danger,  and  a 
girl  in  the  choir  watched  the  preacher 
with  dilated  eyeballs,  like  an  animal  fas- 
cinated by  terror. 

"  It  is  as  a  sword  piercing  the  heart  to 
receive  this  truth,  but  it  is  a  truth  and 
must  be  believed.  There  are  hundreds 
of  thousands  in  the  past  who  were  born 
and  lived  and  died  and  were  damned  for 
the  glory  of  God.  There  are  hundreds 
of  thousands  in  this  day  who'  have  been 
born  and  are  living  and  shall  die  and  be 


I40  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

damned  for  the  glory  of  God.  There 
are  hundreds  of  thousands  in  the  future 
who  shall  be  born  and  shall  live  and  shall 
die  and  shall  be  damned  for  the  glory  of 
God.  All  according  to  the  will  of  God, 
and  none  dare  say  nay  nor  change  the 
purpose  of  the  Eternal."  For  some 
time  the  oil  in  the  lamps  had  been  failing 
— since  the  Rabbi  had  been  speaking  for 
nigh  two  hours — and  as  he  came  to  an 
end  of  this  passage  the  light  began  to 
flicker  and  die.  First  a  lamp  at  the  end 
of  Burnbrae's  pew  went  out,  and  then 
another  in  the  front.  The  preacher 
made  as  though  he  would  have  spoken, 
but  was  silent,  and  the  congregation 
watched  four  lamps  sink  into  darkness  at 
intervals  of  half  a  minute.  There  only 
remained  the  two  pulpit  lamps,  and  in 
their  light  the  people  saw  the  Rabbi  lift 
his  right  hand  for  the  first  time. 


',,,s0SM' 


"SHALL    .    .    .    NOT    .    .    .    THE    .    .    .    JUD(;E    ...    OF  ALL 
THE   EARTH    .    .    .    DO    .    .    .    RIGHT?" 


THE   FEAR   OF   GOD.  143 

"Shall  ...  not  ...  the  ..  .  Judge 
.  .  .  of  all  the  earth  .  .  .  do  .  .  .  right?  " 
The  two  lamps  went  out  together  and  a 
great  sigh  rose  from  the  people.  At  the 
back  of  the  kirk  a  child  wailed,  and  some- 
where in  the  front  a  woman's  voice — it 
was  never  proved  to  be  Elspeth  Mac- 
fadyen — said  audibly,  "  God  have  mercy 
upon  us."  The  Rabbi  had  sunk  back 
into  the  seat  and  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands,  and  through  the  window  over  his 
head  the  moonlight  was  pouring  into  the 
church  like  unto  the  far-off  radiance 
from  the  White  Throne. 

When  Carmichael  led  the  Rabbi  into 
the  manse  he  could  feel  the  old  man 
trembling  from  head  to  foot,  and  he 
would  touch  neither  meat  nor  drink,  nor 
would  he  speak  for  a  space.  ' 

"  Are  you  there,  John?  " — and  he  put 
out  his  hand  to  Carmichael,   who  had 


144  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

placed  him  in  the  big  study  chair,  and 
was  sitting  beside  him  in  silence.  .  . 

"  I  dare  not  withdraw  nor  change  any 
word  that  I  spake  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord  this  day,  but  ...  it  is  my  in- 
firmity ...  I  wish  I  had  never  been 
born." 

"  It  was  awful,"  said  Carmichael,  and 
the  Rabbi's  head  again  fell  on  his  breast. 

"  John," — and  Saunderson  looked  up, 
— "  I  would  give  ten  thousand  worlds  to 
stand  in  the  shoes  of  that  good  man  who 
conveyed  me  from  Kilbogie  yesterday, 
and  W'ith  whom  I  had  very  pleasant  fel- 
low^ship  concerning  the  patience  of  the 
saints. 

"  It  becometh  not  any  human  being  to 
judge  his  neighbor,  but  it  seemed  to  me 
from  many  signs  that  he  was  within  the 
election  of  God,  and  even  as  we  spoke  of 
Polycarp    and    the    martyrs    who    have 


THE   FEAR   OF   GOD.  145 

overcome  by  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  it 
came  unto  me  with  much  power,  '  Lo, 
here  is  one  beside  you  whose  name  is 
written  in  the  Lamb's  Book  of  Life,  and 
who  shall  enter  through  the  gates  into 
the  city  ' ;  and  grace  was  given  me  to  re- 
joice in  his  joy,  but  I  .  .  ." — and  Car- 
michael  could  have  wept  for  the  despair 
in  the  Rabbi's  voice. 

"  Dear  Rabbi  " — for  once  the  confi- 
dence of  youth  was  smitten  at  the  sight 
of  a  spiritual  conflict  beyond  its  depth — 
*'  you  are  surely  .  .  .  depreciating  your- 
self. .  .  Burnbrae  is  a  good  man,  but 
compared  with  you  ...  is  not  this  like 
to  the  depression  of  Elijah?"  Carmi- 
chael  knew,  however,  he  was  not  fit  for 
such  work  as  the  comforting  of  Rabbi 
Saunderson,  and  had  better  have  held  his 
peace. 

"  It  may  be  that  I  understand  the  let- 


146  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

ter  of  Holy  Scripture  better  than  some 
of  God's  children,  although  I  be  but  a 
babe  even  in  this  poor  knowledge,  but 
such  gifts  are  only  as  the  small  dust  of 
the  balance.  He  will  have  mercy  on 
w^hom  He  will  have  mercy. 

"  John,"  said  the  Rabbi  suddenly,  and 
with  strong  feeling,  "  was  it  your 
thought  this  night,  as  I  declared  the  sov- 
ereignty of  God,  that  I  judged  myself  of 
the  elect,  and  was  speaking  as  one  him- 
self hidden  forever  in  the  secret  place  of 
God?" 

"  I  .  .  .  did  not  know,"  stammered 
Carmichael,  whose  utter  horror  at  the 
unrelenting  sermon  had  only  been  tem- 
pered by  his  love  for  the  preachef. 

"  You  did  me  wrong,  John,  for  then 
had  I  not  dared  to  speak  at  all  after  that 
fashion;  it  is  not  for  a  vessel  of  mercy 
filled  unto  overflowing  with  the  love  of 


THE   FEAR   OF    GOD.  147 

God  to  exalt  himself  above  the  vessels 
...  for  whom  there  is  no  mercy.  But 
he  may  plead  with  them  who  are  in  like 
case  with  himself  to  .  .  .  acknowledge 
the  Divine  Justice." 

Then  the  pathos  of  the  situation  over- 
came Carmichael,  and  he  went  over  to 
the  bookcase  and  leant  his  head  against 
certain  volumes,  because  they  were 
weighty  and  would  not  yield.  Next  day 
he  noticed  that  one  of  them  was  a  Latin 
"  Calvin  "  that  had  traveled  over  Europe 
in  learned  company,  and  the  other  a  bat- 
tered copy  of  Jonathan  Edwards  that 
had  come  from  the  house  of  an  Ayrshire 
farmer. 

"  Forgive  me  that  I  have  troubled  you 
with  the  concerns  of  my  soul,  John," — 
the  Rabbi  could  only  stand  with  an 
efifort, — "  they  ought  to  be  between  a 
man   and   his   God.     There   is   another 


148  RABBI   SAUNDERSON. 

work  laid  to  my  hand  for  which  there  is 
no  power  in  me  now.  During  the  night 
I  shall  ask  whether  the  cup  may  not  pass 
from  me,  but  if  not,  the  will  of  God  be 
done." 

Carmichael  slept  but  little,  and  every 
time  he  woke  the  thought  was  heavy 
upon  him  that  on  the  other  side  of  a  nar- 
row wall  the  holiest  man  he  knew  was 
wrestling  in  darkness  of  soul,  and  that  he 
had  added  to  the  bitterness  of  the  agony. 


THE  WOUNDS  OF  A  FRIEND. 


THE  WOUNDS  OF  A  FRIEND. 

WINTER  has  certain  mornings 
which  redeem  weeks  of  miscon- 
duct, wlien  the  hoarfrost  during  the 
night  has  resilvered  every  branch  and 
braced  the  snow  upon  the  ground, 
and  the  sun  rises  in  ruddy  strength 
and  drives  out  of  sight  every  cloud 
and  mist,  and  moves  all  day  through 
an  expanse  of  unbroken  blue,  and 
is  reflected  from  the  dazzling  white- 
ness of  the  earth  as  from  a  mirror.  Such 
a  sight  calls  a  man  from  sleep  with  au- 
thority, and  makes  his  blood  tingle,  and 
puts  new  heart  in  him,  and  banishes  the 
troubles  of  the  night.  Other  mornings 
Winter  joins  in  the  conspiracy  of  princi- 
•  151 


152  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

palities  and  powers  to  daunt  and  crush 
the  human  soul.  No  sun  is  to  be  seen, 
and  the  gray  atmosphere  casts  down  the 
heart,  the  wind  moans  and  whistles  in 
fitful  gusts,  the  black  clouds  hang  low 
in  threatening  masses,' now  and  again  a 
flake  of  snow  drifts  in  the  wind.  A 
storm  is  near  at  hand:  not  the  thunder- 
shower  of  summer,  with  its  warm  rain 
and  the  kindly  sun  ever  in  ambush,  but 
dark  and  blinding  snow,  through  which 
even  a  gamekeeper  cannot  see  six  yards, 
and  in  which  weary  travelers  lie  down  to 
rest  and  die. 

The  melancholy  of  this  kind  of  day 
had  fallen  on  Saunderson,  whose  face 
was  ashen,  and  who  held  Carmichael's 
hand  with  such  anxious  affection  that  it 
was  impossible  to  inquire  how  he  had 
slept,  and  it  would  have  been  a  banalite 
to  remark  upon  the  weather.     After  the 


THE   WOUNDS   OF   A   FRIEND.       155 

Rabbi  had  been  compelled  to  swallow 
a  cup  of  milk  by  way  of  breakfast, 
it  was  evident  that  he  was  ready  for 
speech. 

"  What  is  it,  Rabbi?  "  as  soon  as  they 
were  again  settled  in  the  study.  "  If 
you  did  not  .  .  .  like  my  sermon,  tell 
me  at  once.  You  know  that  I  am  one  of 
your  boys,  and  you  ought  to  .  .  .  help 
me."  Perhaps  it  was  inseparable  from 
his  youth,  with  its  buoyancy  and  self- 
satisfaction,  and  his  training  in  a  college 
whose  members  only  knew  by  rumor  of 
the  existence  of  other  places  of  theologi- 
cal learning,  that  Carmichael  had  at  that 
moment  a  pleasing  sense  of  humility  and 
charity.  Had  it  been  a  matter  of  scho- 
lastic lore,  of  course  neither  he  nor  more 
than  six  men  in  Scotland  could  have  met 
the  Rabbi  in  the  gate.  With  regard  to 
modern  thought,  Carmichael  knew  that 


154  RABBI   SAUNDERSON. 

the  good  Rabbi  had  not  read  "  Ecce 
Homo,"  and  was  hardly,  well  .  .  .  up  to 
date.  He  would  not  for  the  world  hint 
such  a  thing  to  the  dear  old  man,  nor 
even  argue  with  him;  but  it  was  flatter- 
ing to  remember  that  the  attack  could 
be  merely  one  of  blunderbusses,  in  which 
the  modern  thinker  would  at  last  inter- 
vene and  save  the  ancient  scholar  from 
humiliation. 

"  Well,  Rabbi?  "  and  Carmichael  tried 
to  make  it  easy. 

"  Before  I  say  what  is  on  my  heart, 
John,  you  will  grant  an  old  man  who 
loves  you  one  favor.  So  far  as  in  you 
lies,  you  will  bear  with  me  if  that  which 
I  have  to  say,  and  still  more  that  which 
my  conscience  will  compel  me  to  do,  is 
hard  to  flesh  and  blood." 

"  Didn't  we  settle  that  last  night  in 
the  vestr>'?  "  and  Carmichael  was  impa- 


THE   WOUNDS   OF   A   FRIEND.       155 

tient ;  "  is  it  that  you  do  not  agree  with 
the  doctrine  of  the  Divine  Fatherhood? 
We  younger  men  are  resolved  to  base 
Christian  doctrine  on  the  actual  Scrip- 
tures, and  to  ignore  mere  tradition." 

"  An  excellent  rule,  my  dear  friend," 
cried  the  Rabbi,  wonderfully  quickened 
by  the  challenge,  "  and  with  your  per- 
mission and  for  our  mutual  edification 
we  shall  briefly  review  all  passages  bear- 
ing on  the  subject  in  hand — using  the 
original,  as  will  doubtless  be  your  wish, 
and  you  correcting  my  poor  recollec- 
tion." 

About  an  hour  afterward,  and  when 
the  Rabbi  was  only  entering  into  the 
heart  of  the  matter,  Carmichael  made 
the  bitter  discovery — without  the  Rabbi 
having  even  hinted  at  such  a  thing — that 
his  pet  sermon  was  a  mass  of  boyish 
crudities,    and    this    reverse    of    circum- 


156  RABBI   SAUNDERSON. 

Stances  was  some  excuse  for  his  pettish- 
ness. 

"  It  does  not  seem  to  me  that  it  is 
worth  our  time  to  haggle  about  the 
usage  of  Greek  words  or  to  count  texts: 
I  ground  my  position  on  the  general 
meaning  of  the  Gospels  and  the  sense  of 
things";  and  Carmichael  stood  on  the 
hearthrug  in  a  very  superior  attitude. 

"  Let  that  pass  then,  John,  and  for- 
give me  if  I  appeared  to  battle  about 
words,  as  certain  scholars  of  the  olden 
time  were  fain  to  do,  for  in  truth  it  is 
rather  about  the  hard  duty  before  me 
than  any  imperfection  in  your  teaching 
I  would  speak  ";  and  the  Rabbi  glanced 
nervously  at  the  young  minister. 

"  We  are  both  Presbyters  of  Christ's 
Church,  ordained  after  the  order  of 
primitive  times,  and  there  are  laid  on  us 
certain   heavy  charges  and   responsibli- 


•THE    WOUNDS   OF   A   FRIEND.       157 

ties  from  which  we  may  not  shrink,  as 
we  shall  answer  to  the  Lord  at  the  great 
day." 

Carmichael's  humiliation  was  lost  in 
perplexity,  and  he  sat  down,  wondering 
what  the  Rabbi  intended. 

"  If  any  Presbyter  should  see  his 
brother  fall  into  one  of  those  faults  of 
private  life  that  do  beset  us  all  in  our 
present  weakness,  then  he  doth  well  and 
kindly  to  point  it  out  unto  his  brother; 
and  if  his  brother  should  depart  from  the 
faith  as  they  talk  together  by  the  way, 
then  it  is  a  Presbyter's  part  to  convince 
him  of  his  error  and  restore  him." 

The  Rabbi  cast  an  imploring  glance, 
but  Carmichael  had  still  no  understand- 
ing. 

"  But  if  one  Presbyter  should  teach 
heresy  to  his  flock  in  the  hearing  of  an- 
other .  .  .  even    though    it    break    the 


158  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

other's  heart,  is  not  the  path  of  duty 
fenced  up  on  either  side,  verily  a  straight, 
narrow  wa)^,  and  hard  for  the  feet  to 
tread?" 

"  You  have  spoken  to  me.  Rabbi,  and 
.  .  .  cleared  yourself  " — Carmichael  was 
still  somewhat  sore^ — "  and  I'll  promise 
not  to  offend  you  again  in  an  action 
sermon." 

"  Albeit  you  intend  it  not  so,  yet  are 
you  making  it  harder  for  me  to  speak.  .  . 
See  you  not  .  .  .  that  I  .  .  .  that  neces- 
sity is  laid  on  me  to  declare  this  matter 
to  my  brother  Presbyters  in  court  as- 
sembled .  .  .  but  not  in  hearing  of  the 
people?  "  Then  there  was  a  stillness  in 
the  room,  and  the  Rabbi,  although  he 
had  closed  his  eyes,  was  conscious  of  the 
amazement  on  the  young  man's  face. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  speaking  very 
slowly,  as  one  taken  utterly  aback,  "  that 


THE   WOUNDS   OF   A   FRIEND.       159 

our  Rabbi  would  come  to  my  ...  to 
the  Sacrament  and  hear  me  preach,  and 
.  .  .  report  me  for  heresy  to  the  Presby- 
tery? Rabbi,  I  know  we  don't  agree 
about  some  things,  and  perhaps  I  was  a 
Httle  .  .  .  annoyed  a  few  minutes  ago 
because  you  .  .  .  know  far  more  than 
I  do,  but  that  is  nothing.  For  you 
to  prosecute  one  of  your  boys  and  be 
the  witness  yourself.  .  .  Rabbi,  you 
can't  mean  it  .  .  .  say  it's  a  mis- 
take." 

The  old  man  only  gave  a  deep  sigh. 

"If  it  were  Dowbiggin  or  .  .  .  any 
man  except  you,  I  wouldn't  care  one 
straw,  rather  enjoy  the  debate,  but  you 
whom  we  have  loved  and  looked  up  to 
and  boasted  about,  why,  it's  like  ...  a 
father  turning  against  his  sons." 

The  Rabbi  made  no  sign. 

"  You  live  too  much  alone,  Rabbi," 


i6o  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

and  Carmichael  began  again  as  the  sense 
of  the  tragedy  grew  on  him,  "  and  nurse 
your  conscience  till  it  gets  over  tender; 
no  other  man  would  dream  of  .  .  . 
prosecuting  a  .  .  .  fellow-minister  in 
such  circumstances.  You  have  spoken 
to  me  like  a  father,  surely  that  is 
enough";  and  in  his  honest  heat  the 
young  fellow  knelt  down  by  the  Rabbi's 
chair  and  took  his  hand. 

A  tear  rolled  down  the  Rabbi's  cheek, 
and  he  looked  fondly  at  the  lad. 

"  Your  words  pierce  me  as  sharp 
swords,  John;  spare  me,  for  I  can  do 
none  otherwise;  all  night  I  wrestled  for 
release,  but  in  vain." 

Carmichael  had  a  sudden  revulsion  of 
feeling,  such  as  befalls  emotional  and  ill- 
disciplined  natures  when  they  are  disap- 
pointed and  mortified. 

"  Ver>'     good,     Dr.     Saunderson " — 


iSiiii 


"YOU   HAVE  SPOKEN  TO  ME   LIKE   A   FATHER:      SURELY  THAT 

IS  ENOUGH  " 


THE   WOUNDS   OF   A   FRIEND.       163 

Carmichael  rose  awkwardly  and  stood  on 
the  hearthrug  again,  an  elbow  on  the 
the  mantelpiece — "  you  must  do  as  you 
please  and  as  you  think  right.  I  am 
sorry  that  I  .  .  .  pressed  you  so  far,  but 
it  was  on  grounds  of  our  .  .  .  friend- 
ship. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  tell  me  as  soon  as 
you  can  what  you  propose  to  do,  and 
when  you  will  bring  .  .  .  this  matter 
before  the  Presbytery.  My  sermon  was 
fully  written  and  ...  is  at  your  dis- 
posal." 

While  this  cold  rain  beat  on  the 
Rabbi's  head  he  moved  not,  but  at  its 
close  he  looked  at  Carmichael  with  the 
appeal  of  a  dumb  animal  in  his  eyes. 

"  The  first  meeting  of  Presbytery  is  on 
Monday,  but  you  would  no  doubt  con- 
sider that  too  soon;  is  there  anything 
about  dates  in  the  order  of  procedure  for 


i64  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

heresy? "  and  Carmichael  made  as 
though  he  would  go  over  to  the  shelves 
for  a  law  book. 

"  John,"  cried  the  Rabbi — his  voice 
full  of  tears — rising  and  following  the 
foolish  lad,  "  is  this  all  you  have  in  your 
heart  to  say  unto  me?  Surely,  as  I  stand 
before  you,  it  is  not  my  desire  to  do  such 
a  thing,  for  I  would  rather  cut  off  my 
right  hand. 

"  God  hath  not  been  pleased  to  give 
me  many  friends,  and  He  only  knows 
how  you  and  the  others  have  comforted 
my  heart.  I  lie  not,  John,  but  speak  the 
truth,  that  there  is  nothing  unto  life  itself 
I  would  not  give  for  your  good,  who 
have  been  as  the  apple  of  my  eye  unto 
me." 

Carmichael  hardened  himself,  torn  be- 
tween a  savage  sense  of  satisfaction  that 
the  Rabbi  was  suffering  for  his  foolish- 


THE   WOUNDS   OF   A    FRIEND.       165 

ness  and  the  inclination  of  his  better  self 
to  respond  to  the  old  man's  love. 

"  If  there  be  a  breach  between  us,  it 
will  not  be  for  you  as  it  must  be  for  me. 
Y(2>u  have  many  friends,  and  may  God 
add  unto  them  good  men  and  faithful, 
but  I  shall  lose  my  one  earthly  joy  and 
consolation  when  your  feet  are  no  longer 
heard  on  my  threshold  and  your  face  no 
longer  brings  light  to  my  room.  And, 
John,  even  this  thing  which  I  am  con- 
strained to  do  is  yet  of  love,  as  .  .  .  you 
shall  confess  one  day." 

Carmichael's  pride  alone  resisted,  and 
it  was  melting  fast.  Had  he  even  looked 
at  the  dear  face  he  must  have  given  way, 
but  he  kept  his  shoulder  to  the  Rabbi, 
and  at  that  moment  the  sound  of  wheels 
passing  the  corner  of  the  manse  gave 
him  an  ungracious  way  of  escape. 

"  That  is  Burnbrae's  dogcart  .  .  .  Dr. 


l66  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

Saunclerson,  and  I  think  he  will  not  wish 
to  keep  his  horse  standing  in  the  snow, 
so,  unless  you  will  stay  all  night,  as  it's 
going  to  drift.  .  .  Then  perhaps  it 
would  be  better.  .  .  Can  I  assist  you 
in  packing? "  How  formal  it  all 
sounded;  and  he  allowed  the  Rabbi  to  go 
upstairs  alone,  with  the  result  that  vari- 
ous things  of  the  old  man's  are  in  Car- 
michael's  house  unto  this  day. 

Another  chance  was  given  the  lad 
when  the  Rabbi  would  have  bidden  him 
good-by  at  the  door,  beseeching  that  he 
should  not  come  out  into  the  drift,  and 
still  another  when  Burnbrae,  being  con- 
cerned about  his  passenger's  appearance, 
who  seemed  ill-fitted  to  face  a  storm, 
wrapt  him  in  a  plaid;  and  he  had  one 
more  when  the  old  man  leant  out  of  the 
dogcart  and  took  Carmichael's  hand  in 
both  of  his,  but  onlv  said,  "  God  bless 


THE   WOUNDS   OF   A   FRIEND.       167 

you  for  all  you've  been  to  me,  and  for- 
give me  for  all  wherein  I  have  failed 
you."  And  they  did  not  meet  again  till 
that  never-to-be-forgotten  sederunt  of 
the  Free  Kirk  Presbytery  of  Muirtown, 
when  the  minister  of  Kilbogie  accused 
the  minister  of  Drumtochty  of  teaching 
the  Linlathen  heresy  of  the  Fatherhood 
of  God  in  a  sermon  before  the  Sacra- 
ment. 

Among  all  the  institutions  of  the 
North  a  Presbyter>'  is  the  most  charac- 
teristic, and  affords  a  standing  illustration 
of  the  contradictions  of  a  supremely 
logical  people.  It  is  so  anti-clerical  a 
court  that  for  every  clergyman  there 
must  be  a  layman— country  ministers 
promising  to  bring  in  their  elder  for 
great  occasions,  and  instructing  him 
audibly  how  to  vote — and  so  fiercely 
clerical  that  if  the  most  pious  and  intel- 


i68  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

ligent  elder  dared  to  administer  a  sacra- 
ment he  would  be  at  once  tried  and  cen- 
sured for  sacrilege.  So  careful  is  a 
Presbytery  to  prevent  the  beginnings  of 
Papacy  that  it  insists  upon  each  of  its 
members  occupying  the  chair  in  turn, 
and  dismisses  him  again  into  private  life 
as  soon  as  he  has  mastered  his  duties,  but 
so  imbued  is  it  with  the  idea  of  authority 
that  whatever  decision  may  be  given  by 
some  lad  of  twenty-five  in  the  chair — 
duly  instructed,  however,  by  the  clerk 
below — will  be  rigidly  obeyed.  When  a 
Presbytery  has  nothing  else  to  do,  it 
dearly  loves  to  pass  a  general  condemna- 
tion on  sacerdotalism,  in  which  the 
tyranny  of  prelates  and  the  foolishness  of 
vestments  will  be  fully  exposed;  but  a 
Presbytery  wields  a  power  at  which  a 
bishop's  hair  would  stand  on  end,  and 
Dr.  Dowbiggin  once  made  Carmichael 


THE   WOUNDS   OF   A   FRIEND.       i6^ 

leave  the  Communion  Table  and  go  into 
the  vestry  to  put  on  his  bands. 

When  a  Presbytery  is  in  its  lighter 
moods,  it  gives  itself  to  points  of  order 
with  a  skill  and  relish  beyond  the  South- 
ern imagination.  It  did  not  matter  how 
harmless,  even  infantile,  might  be  the 
proposal  before  the  court  by  such  a  man 
as  MacWheep  of  Pitscowrie;  he  has 
hardly  got  past  an  apology  for  his  pre- 
sumption in  venturing  to  speak  at  all  be- 
fore a  member  of  Presbytery — who  had 
reduced  his  congregation  to  an  irreduci- 
ble minimum  by  the  woodenness  of  his 
preaching — inquires  whether  the  speech 
of  "  our  esteemed  brother  is  not  ultra 
vires,"  or  something  else  as  awful.  Mac- 
Wheep at  once  sits  down  with  the  air  of 
one  taken  red-handed  in  arson,  and  the 
court  debates  the  point  till  every  au- 
thority has  taken  his  fill,  when  the  clerk 


I70  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

submits  to  the'  moderator,  with  a  fine 
blend  of  deference  and  infalHbihty,  that 
Mr.  MacWheep  is  perfectly  within  his 
rights;  and  then,  as  that  estimable  per- 
son has  by  this  time  lost  any  thread  he 
ever  possessed,  the  Presbytery  passes  to 
the  next  business — with  the  high  spirit  of 
men  returning  from  a  holiday.  Car- 
michael  used,  indeed,  to  relate  how,  in  a 
great  stress  of  business,  someone  moved 
that  the  Presbytery  should  adjourn  for 
dinner,  and  the  court  argued  for  thirty 
minutes,  with  many  precedents,  whether 
such  a  motion — touching  as  it  did  the 
standing  orders — could  even  be  dis- 
cussed, and,  with  an  unnecessary  prodi- 
gality of  testimony,  he  used  to  give 
perorations  which  improved  with  every 
telling. 

The  love  of  law  diffused  through  the 
Presbytery    became    incarnate    in    the 


THE   WOUNDS   OF   A   FRIEND.       171 

clerk,  who  was  one  of  the  most  finished 
specimens  of  his   class   in  the   Scottish 
Kirk.     His  sedate  appearance,  bald,  pol- 
ished head,  fringed  with  pure  white  hair, 
shrewd  face,  with  neatly  cut  side  whis- 
kers, his  suggestion  of  unerring  accuracy 
and  inexhaustible  memory,  his  attitude 
for  exposition — holding  his  glasses  in  his 
left  hand  and  enforcing  his  decision  with 
the    little    finger    of    the    right    hand — 
carried  conviction  even  to  the  most  dis- 
orderly.    Ecclesiastical  radicals,  boiling 
over  with  new  schemes,  and  boasting  to 
admiring    circles    of    MacWheeps    that 
they  would  not  be  browbeaten  by  red- 
tape  officials,  became  ungrammatical  be- 
fore that  firm  gaze,  and  ended  in  abject 
surrender.     Self-contained   and   self-suf- 
ficing, the  clerk  took  no  part  in  debate, 
save  at  critical  moments  to  lay  down  the 
law,    but    wrote    his    minutes    unmoved 


172  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

through  torrents  of  speech  on  every  sub- 
ject, from  the  Sustentation  Fund  to  the 
Union  between  England  and  Scotland, 
and  even  under  the  picturesque  elo- 
quence of  foreign  deputies,  whose  names 
he  invariably  requested  should  be 
handed  to  him,  written  legibly  on  a 
sheet  of  paper.  On  two  occasions  only 
he  ceased  from  writing:  when  Dr.  Dow- 
biggin  discussed  a  method  of  procedure 
— then  he  watched  him  over  his  spec- 
tacles in  hope  of  a  nice  point;  or  when 
some  enthusiastic  brother  would  urge 
the  Presbytery  to  issue  an  injunction  on 
the  sin  of  Sabbath  walking — then  the 
clerk  would  abandon  his  pen  in  visible 
despair,  and  sitting  sideways  on  his  chair 
and  supporting  his  head  by  that  same 
little  finger,  would  face  the  Presbytery 
with  an  expression  of  reverent  curiosity 
on    his    face    why    the    Almighty    was 


THE   WOUNDS   OF   A   FRIEND.       173 

pleased  to  create  such  a  man.  His 
preaching  was  distinguished  for  orderli- 
ness, and  was  much  sought  after  for  Fast 
days.  It  turned  largely  on  the  use  of 
prepositions  and  the  scope  of  conjunc- 
tions, so  that  the  clerk  could  prove  the 
doctrine  of  Vicarious  Sacrifice  from 
"  for,"  and  Retribution  from  "  as  "  in  the 
Lord's  Prayer,  emphasizing  and  confirm- 
ing everything  by  that  wonderful  finger, 
which  seemed  to  be  designed  by  Provi- 
dence for  delicate  distinctions,  just  as  an- 
other man's  fist  sensed  for  popular  decla- 
mation. His  pulpit  masterpiece  was  a 
lecture  on  the  Council  of  Jerusalem,  in 
which  its  whole  deliberations  were  re- 
viewed by  the  rules  of  the  Free  Kirk 
Book  of  Procedure,  and  a  searching  and 
edifying  discourse  concluded  with  two 
lessons.  First:  That  no  ecclesiastical 
body  can  conduct  its  proceedings  with- 


174  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

out  officials.  Second:  That  such  men 
ought  to  be  accepted  as  a  special  gift  of 
Providence. 

The  general  opinion  among  good 
people  was  that  the  clerk's  preaching  was 
rather  for  upbuilding  than  arousing,  but 
it  is  still  remembered  by  the  survivors  of 
the  old  Presbytery  that  when  Mac- 
Wheep  organized  a  conference  on  "  The 
state  of  religion  in  our  congregations," 
and  it  was  meandering  in  strange  direc- 
tions, the  clerk,  who  utilized  such  sea- 
sons for  the  writing  of  letters,  rose  amid 
a  keen  revival  of  interest — it  was  sup- 
posed that  he  had  detected  an  irregu- 
larity in  the  proceedings — and  offered 
his  contribution.  It  did  not  become 
him  to  boast,  he  said,  but  he  had  seen 
marvelous  things  in  his  day:  under  his 
unworthy  ministry  three  beadles  had 
been  converted  to  Christianity;  and  this 


THE   WOUNDS   OF   A   FRIEND.       175 

experience  was  so  final  that  the  confer- 
ence immediately  closed. 

Timts  there  were,  however,  when  the 
Presbytery  rose  to  its  height  and  was  in- 
veSfted  with  an  undeniable  spiritual  dig- 
nity. Its  members,  taken  one  by  one, 
consisted  of  farmers,  shepherds,  trades- 
men, and  one  or  two  professional  men, 
with  some  twenty  ministers,  only  two  or 
three  of  whom  were  known  beyond  their 
parishes.  Yet  those  men  had  no  doubt 
that  as  soon  as  they  were  constituted  in 
the  name  of  Christ  they  held  their  au- 
thority from  the  Son  of  God  and  the 
Saviour  of  the  world,  and  they  bore 
themselves  in  spiritual  matters  as  His 
servants.  No  kindly  feeling  of  neigh- 
borliness  or  any  fear  of  man  could  hinder 
them  from  inquiring  into  the  religious 
condition  of  a  parish  or  dealing  faith- 
fully with  an  erring  minister.     They  had 


176  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

power  to  ordain,  and  laid  hands  on  the 
bent  head  of  some  young  probationer 
with  much  solemnity;  they  had  also 
power  to  take  away  the  orders  they  had 
given,  and  he  had  been  hardened  indeed 
beyond  hope  who  could  be  present  and 
not  tremble  when  the  Moderator,  stand- 
ing in  his  place,  with  the  Presbytery 
around,  and  speaking  in  the  name  of  the 
Head  of  the  Church,  deposed  an  un- 
worthy brother  from  the  holy  ministry. 
MacWheep  was  a  "  cratur,"  and  much 
given  to  twaddle,  but  when  it  was  his 
duty  once  to  rebuke  a  fellow-minister  for 
quarreling  with  his  people,  he  was  de- 
livered from  himself,  and  spake  with 
such  wisdom  as  he  has  never  shown  be- 
fore or  since. 

When  the  Presbytery  assembled  to  re- 
ceive a  statement  from  Dr.  Saunderson 
"  re  error  in  doctrine  by  a  brother  Pres- 


THE   WOUNDS   OF    A   FRIEND.       177 

byter,"  even  a  stranger  might  have  no- 
ticed that  its  members  were  weighted 
with  a  sense  of  responsibility,  and  al- 
though a  discussion  arose  on  the  attempt 
of  SL  desultory  member  to  introduce  a 
deputy  charged  with  the  subject  of  the 
lost  Ten  Tribes,  yet  it  was  promptly 
squelched  by  the  clerk,  who  intimated, 
with  much  gravity,  that  the  court  had 
met  in  hunc  effimctum,  viz.,  to  hear  Dr. 
Saunderson,  and  that  the  court  could 
not,  in  consistence  with  law,  take  up  any 
other  business,  not  even — here  Carmi- 
chael  professed  to  detect  a  flicker  of  the 
clerkly  eyelids — the  disappearance  of  the 
Ten  Tribes. 

It  was  the  last  time  that  the  Rabbi 
ever  spoke  in  public,  and  it  is  now  agreed 
that  the  deliverance  was  a  fit  memorial 
of  the  most  learned  scholar  that  has  been 
ever  known  in  those  parts.     He  began 


178  RABBI   SAUNDERSON. 

by  showing  that  Christian  doctrine  has 
taken  various   shapes,    some  more   and 
some  less  in  accordance  with  the  deposit 
of  truth  given  by  Christ  and  the  holy 
Apostles,   and   especially   that  the   doc- 
trine of  Grace  had  been  differently  con- 
ceived by  two  eminent  theologians,  Cal- 
vin and  Arminius,  and  his  exposition  was 
so  lucid  that  the   clerk  gave   it  as  his 
opinion  afterward  that  the  two  systems 
were  understood  by  certain  members  of 
the   court   for  the   first   time   that   day. 
Afterward    the    Rabbi    vindicated    and 
glorified  Calvinism  from  the  Scriptures 
of  the  Old  and  New  Testament,  from  the 
Fathers,  from  the  Reformation  Divines, 
from  the  later  creeds,  till  the  brain  of  the 
Presbytery  reeled  through  the  wealth  of 
allusion  and  quotation,  all  in  the  tongues 
of  the  learned.     Then  he  dealt  with  the 
theology   of   Mr.  Erskine   of   Linlathen, 


THE   WOUNDS   OF   A   FRIEND.       179 

and  showed  how  it  was  undermining  the 
very  foundations  of  Calvinism;  yet  the 
Rabbi  spake  so  tenderly  of  our  Scottish 
Maurice  that  the  Presbytery  knew  not 
whether  it  ought  to  condemn  Erskine  as 
a  heretic  or  love  him  as  a  saint.  Having 
thus  brought  the  court  face  to  face  with 
the  issues  involved,  the  Rabbi  gave  a 
sketch  of  a  certain  sermon  he  had  heard 
while  assisting  "  a  learned  and  much-be- 
loved brother  at  the  Sacrament,"  and 
Carmichael  was  amazed  at  the  trans- 
figuration of  this  very  youthful  perform- 
ance, which  now  figured  as  a  profound 
and  edifying  discourse,  for  whose  excel- 
lent qualities  the  speaker  had  not  ade- 
quate words.  This  fine  discourse  was, 
however,  to  a  certain  degree  marred,  the 
Rabbi    suggested,    by    an    unfortunate, 

ft 

although  no  doubt  temporary,  leaning  to 
the    teaching    of    Mr.    Erskine,    whose 


i8o  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

beautiful  piety  had  exercised  its  just  fas- 
cination upon  his  spiritually-minded 
brother.  Finally  the  Rabbi  left  the  mat- 
ter in  the  hands  of  the  Presbyter}^, 
declaring  that  he  had  cleared  his  con- 
science, and  that  the  minister  in  question 
was  one — here  he  was  painfully  over- 
come— dear  to  him  as  a  son,  and  one  to 
whose  many  labors  and  singular  graces 
he  could  bear  full  testimony,  the  Rev. 
John  Carmichael,  of  Drumtochty.  The 
Presbytery  was  slow  and  pedantic,  but 
was  not  insensible  to  a  spiritual  situation, 
and  there  was  a  murmur  of  sympathy 
when  the  Rabbi  sat  down — much  ex- 
hausted, and  never  having  allowed  him- 
self to  look  once  at  Carmichael. 

Then  arose  a  self-made  man,  who  con- 
sidered orthodoxy  and  capital  to  be 
bound  up  together,  and  especially  identi- 
fied any  departure  from  sovereignty  with 


THEN   AROSE   A   SELF-MADE  MAN 


THE   WOUNDS   OF   A    FRIEND.       183 

that  pestilent  form  of  Socialism  which 
demanded  equal  chances  for  every  man. 
He  was  only  a  plain  layman,  he  said,  and 
perhaps  he  ought  not  to  speak  in  the 
presence  of  so  many  reverend  gentlemen, 
but  he  was  very  grateful  to  Dr.  Saunder- 
son   for  his  honorable  and  straightfor- 
ward conduct.     It  would  be  better  for 
the  Church  if  there  were  more  like  him, 
and  he  would  just  like  to  ask  Mr.  Carmi- 
chael  three  questions.     Did  he  sign  the 
Confession  of  Faith? — that  was  one;  and 
had  he  kept  it? — that  was  two;  and  the 
last  was,  When  did  he  propose  to  leave 
the  Church?    He  knew  something  about 
building  contracts,  and  he  had  heard  of 
a  penalty  when  a  contract  was  broken. 
There  was  just  one  thing  more  he  would 
like    to    say — if    there    was    less    loose 
theology  in  the  pulpit  there  would  be 
more  money  in  the  plate.     The  shame 


i84  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

of  the  Rabbi  during  this  harangue  was 
pitiable  to  behold. 

Then  a  stalwart  arose  on  the  other 
side,  and  a  young  gentleman  who  had 
just  escaped  from  a  college  debating  so- 
ciety wished  to  know  what  century  we 
were  living  in,  warned  the  last  speaker 
that  the  progress  of  theological  science 
would  not  be  hindered  by  mercenary 
threats,  advised  Dr.  Saunderson  to  read 
a  certain  German  called  Ritschl — as  if 
he  had  been  speaking  to  a  babe  in  arms 
■ — and  was  refreshing  himself  with  a 
Latin  quotation,  when  the  Rabbi,  in 
utter  absence  of  mind,  corrected  a  false 
quantity  aloud. 

"  Moderator,"  the  old  man  apologized 
in  much  confusion,  "  I  wot  not  what  I 
did,  and  I  pray  my  reverend  brother, 
whose  interesting  and  instructive  ad- 
dress I  have  interrupted  by  this  unman- 


THE    WOUNDS   OF   A    FRIEND.       185 

nerliness.  to  grant  me  his  pardon,  for  my 
tongue  simply  obeyed  my  ear."  Which 
untoward  incident  brought  the  modern 
to  an  end,  as  by  a  stroke  of  ironical  fate. 
It  seemed  to  the  clerk  that  little  good  to 
anyone  concerned  was  to  come  out  of 
this  debate,  and  he  signaled  to  Dr.  Dow- 
biggin,  with  whom  he  had  dined  the 
night  before,  when  they  concocted  a  mo- 
tion over  their  wine.  Whereupon  that 
astute  man  explained  to  the  court  that 
he  did  not  desire  to  curtail  the  valuable 
discussion,  from  which  he  personally  had 
derived  much  profit,  but  he  had  ventured 
to  draw  up  a  motion,  simply  for  the 
guidance  of  the  House — it  was  said  by 
the  Rabbi's  boys  that  the  Doctor's  suc- 
cess as  an  ecclesiastic  was  largely  due  to 
the  skillful  use  of  such  phrases — and 
then  he  read :  "  Whereas  the  Church  is 
set  in  all  her  courts  for  the  defense  of  the 


i86  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

truth,  whereas  it  is  reported  that  various 
erroneous  doctrines  are  being  promul- 
gated in  books  and  other  pubHc  prints, 
whereas  it  has  been  stated  that  one  of 
the  ministers  of  this  Presbytery  has  used 
words  that  might  be  supposed  to  give 
sanction  to  a  certain  view  which  appears 
to  conflict  with  statements  contained  in 
the  standards  of  the  Church,  the  Pres- 
bytery of  Muirtown  declares,  first  of  all, 
its  unshaken  adherence  to  the  said  stand- 
ards; secondly,  deplores  the  existence  in 
any  quarter  of  notions  contradictory  or 
subversive  of  said  standards;  thirdly, 
thanks  Dr.  Saunderson  for  the  vigilance 
he  has  shown  in  the  cause  of  sound  doc- 
trine; fourthly,  calls  upon  all  ministers 
within  the  bounds  to  have  a  care  that 
they  create  no  offense  or  misunderstand- 
ing by  their  teaching,  and  finally  enjoins 


THE   WOUNDS   OF   A   FRIEND.       187 

all  parties  concerned  to  cultivate  peace 

and  charity." 

This  motion  was  seconded  by  the 
clerk  and  carried  unanimously — Carmi- 
cha€l  being  compelled  to  silence  by  the 
two  wise  men  for  his  own  sake  and  theirs 
— and  was  declared  to  be  a  conspicuous 
victory  both  by  the  self-made  man  and 
the  modern,  which  was  another  tribute 
to  the  ecclesiastical  gifts  of  Dr.  Dowbig- 
gin  and  the  clerk  of  the  Presbytery  of 
Muirtown. 


LIGHT  AT  EVENTIDE. 


LIGHT   AT   EVENTIDE. 

*  I  '"HE  Rabbi  had  been  careful  to  send 
^  an  abstract  of  his  speech  to  Carmi- 
chael,  with  a  letter  enough  to  melt  the 
heart  even  of  a  self-suf^cient  young  cleri- 
cal, and  Carmichael  had  considered  how 
he  should  bear  himself  at  the  Presbytery. 
His  intention  had  been  to  meet  the 
Rabbi  with  public  cordiality  and  escort 
him  to  a  seat,  so  that  all  men  should  see 
that  he  was  too  magnanimous  to  be 
offended  by  this  latest  eccentricity  of 
their  friend.  This  calculated  plan  was 
upset  by  the  Rabbi  coming  in  late  and 
taking  the  first  seat  that  offered,  and 
when  he  would  have  gone  afterward  to 

thank  him  for  his  generosity  the  Rabbi 

191 


192  RABBI   SAUNDERSON. 

had  disappeared.  It  was  evident  that 
the  old  man's  love  was  as  deep  as  ever, 
but  that  he  was  much  hurt  and  would 
not  risk  another  repulse.  Very  likely  he 
had  walked  in  from  Kilbogie,  perhaps 
without  breakfast,  and  had  now  started 
to  return  to  his  cheerless  manse.  It  was 
a  wetting  spring  rain,  and  he  remem- 
bered that  the  Rabbi  had  no  coat.  A  fit 
of  remorse  overtook  Carmichael,  and  he 
scoured  the  streets  of  Muirtown  to  find 
the  Rabbi,  imagining  deeds  of  attention 
— how  he  would  capture  him  unawares 
mooning  along  some  side  street  hope- 
lessly astray;  how  he  would  accuse  him 
of  characteristic  cunning  and  deep  plot- 
ting; how  he  would  carry  him  by  force 
to  the  Kilspindie  Arms  and  insist  upon 
their  dining  in  state;  how  the  Rabbi 
would  wish  to  discharge  the  account  and 
find   twopence   in    his    pockets — having 


LIGHT    AT   EVENTIDE.  193 

given  all  his  silver  to  an  ex-Presbyterian 
minister  stranded  in  Muirtown  through 
peculiar  circumstances;  how  he  would 
speak  gravely  to  the  Rabbi  on  the  lack 
of  common  honesty,  and  threaten  a  real 
prosecution,  when  the  charge  would  be 
"  obtaining  a  dinner  on  false  pretenses  "; 
how  they  would  journey  to  Kildrummie 
in  high  content,  and — the  engine  having 
whistled  for  a  dogcart — they  would  drive 
to  Drumtochty  manse,  the  sun  shining 
through  the  rain  as  they  entered  the  gar- 
den; how  he  would  compass  the  Rabbi 
with  observances,  and  the  old  man  would 
sit  again  in  the  big  chair  full  of  joy  and 
peace.  Ah,  the  kindly  jests  that  have 
not  come  off  in  life,  the  gracious  deeds 
that  never  were  done,  the  reparations 
that  were  too  late!  When  Carmichael 
reached  the  station  the  Rabbi  was  al- 
ready   halfway    to    Kilbogie,    trudging 


194  RABBI   SAUNDERSON. 

along  wet,  and  weary,  and  very  sad,  be- 
cause, although  he  had  obeyed  his  con- 
science at  a  cost,  it  seemed  to  him  as  if 
all  he  had  done  was  simply  to  alienate 
the  boy  whom  God  had  given  him,  as  a 
son  in  his  old  age,  for  even  the  guileless 
Rabbi  suspected  that  the  ecclesiastics 
considered  his  action  foolishness  and  of 
no  service  to  the  Church  of  God.  Bar- 
bara's language  on  his  arrival  was  vitu- 
perative to  a  degree;  she  gave  him  food 
grudgingly,  and  when,  in  the  early  morn- 
ing, he  fell  asleep  over  an  open  Father, 
he  was  repeating  Carmichael's  name,  and 
the  thick  old  paper  was  soaked  with 
tears. 

His  nemesis  seized  Carmichael  so  soon 
as  he  reached  the  Dunleith  train  in  the 
shape  of  the  Free  Kirk  minister  of  Kil- 
drummie,  who  had  purchased  six  pounds 
of  prize  seed  potatoes,  and  was  carrying 


HE  WATCHED  THE   DISPERSION   OF  HIS  POTATOES  WITH   DISMAY 


LIGHT   AT   EVENTIDE.  197 

the  treasure  home  in  a  paper  bag.  This 
bag  had  done  after  its  kind,  and  spilt  its 
contents,  and  as  the  distinguished  agri- 
culturist— who  had  not  seen  his  feet  for 
years — could  only  have  stooped  at  the 
risk  of  apoplexy,  he  watched  the  disper- 
sion of  his  potatoes  with  dismay,  and 
hailed  the  arrival  of  Carmichael  with  ex- 
clamations of  thankfulness.  It  is  won- 
derful over  what  an  area  six  pounds  of 
(prize)  potatoes  can  deploy  on  a  railway 
platform,  and  how^  the  feet  of  passengers 
will  carry  them  unto  far  distances. 
Some  might  never  have  been  restored  to 
the  bag  had  it  not  been  for  Kildrummie's 
comprehensive  eye  and  the  physical  skill 
with  which  he  guided  Carmichael,  till 
even  prodigals  that  had  strayed  over  to 
the  neighborhood  of  the  Aberdeen  ex- 
press were  restored  to  the  extemporized 
fold  in  the  minister's  topcoat  pockets. 


198  RABBI   SAUNDERSON. 

Carmichael  had  knelt  on  that  very  plat- 
form six  months  or  so  before,  but  then 
he  labored  in  the  service  of  two  most 
agreeable  dogs  and  under  the  approving 
eyes  of  Miss  Carnegie;  that  was  a  differ- 
ent experience  from  hunting  after  single 
potatoes  on  all-fours  among  the  feet  of 
unsympathetic  passengers,  and  being 
prodded  to  duty  by  the  umbrella  of  an 
obese  Free  Kirk  minister.  As  a  reward 
for  this  service  of  the  aged,  he  was 
obliged  to  travel  to  Kildrummie  with  his 
neighbor — in  whom  for  the  native  hu- 
mor that  was  in  him  he  had  often  re- 
joiced, but  whose  company  was  not  con- 
genial that  day — and  Kildrummie  laid 
himself  out  for  a  pleasant  talk.  After 
the  roots  had  been  secured  and  their 
pedigree  stated  Kildrummie  fell  back  on 
the  proceedings  of  Presbytery,  express- 
ing much  admiration  for  the  guidance  of 


LIGHT   AT   EVENTIDE.  199 

Dr.  Dowbiggin  and  denouncing  Saun- 
derson  as  "fair  dottle,"  in  proof  of  which 
judgment  Kildrummie  adduced  the  fact 
that  the  Rabbi  had  allowed  a  very  hap- 
pily situated  pig  sty  at  the  Manse  ol  Kil- 
bogie  to  sink  into  ruin.  Kildrummie, 
still  in  search  of  agreeable  themes  to  pass 
the  time,  also  mentioned  a  pleasant  tale 
he  had  gathered  at  the  seed  shop. 

"  Yir  neebur  upbye,  the  General's 
dochter,  is  cairryin'  on  an  awfu'  rig  the 
noo  at  the  Castle  " — Kildrummie  fell 
into  dialect  in  private  life,  often  with 
much  richness — "  an'  the  sough  [noise] 
o'  her  ongaeins  hes  come  the  length  o' 
Muirtown.  The  castle  is  foo'  o'  men — 
tae  say  naethin'  o'  weemin;  but  it's  little 
she  hes  tae  dae  wi'  them  or  them  wi'  her 
— officers  frae  Edinburgh  an'  writin' 
men  frae  London,  as  weel  as  half  a  dozen 
coontv  birkies." 


200  RABBI   SAUNDERSON. 

"Well?"  said  Carmichael,  despising 
himself  for  his  curiosity. 

"  She  hes  a  wy,  there's  nae  doot  o* 
that,  an'  gin  the  trimmie  hesna  turned 
the  heads  o'  half  the  men  in  the  Castle, 
till  they  say  she  hes  the  pick  of  twa  lords, 
five  honorables,  and  a  poet.  But  the 
lassie  kens  what's  what;  it's  Lord  Hav 
she's  settin'  her  cap  for,  an'  as  sure  as 
ye're  sittin'  there,  Drum,  she'll  hae  him. 

"  Ma  word  " — and  Kildrummie  pur- 
sued his  way — "  it  '11  be  a  match,  the 
dochter  o'  a  puir  Hielant  laird,  wi'  nae- 
thin'  but  his  half  pay  and  a  few  pounds 
frae  a  fairm  or  twa.  She's  a  clever  ane; 
French  songs,  dancin',  shootin',  ridin', 
actin',  there's  nae  deevilry  that's  beyond 
her.  They  say  upbye  that  she's  been  a 
bonnie  handfu'  tae  her  father — General 
though  he  be — an'  a'  peety  her  man." 

"  They  say  a  lot  of  .  .  .  lies,  and   I 


LIGHT    AT   EVENTIDE.  201 

don't  see  what  call  a  minister  has  to  slan- 
der .  .  .";  and  then  Carmichael  saw  the 
folly  of  quarreling  with  a  veteran  gossip 
over  a  young  woman  that  would  have 
nofhing  to  say  to  him.  What  two  Free 
Kirk  ministers  or  their  people  thought 
of  her  would  never  affect  Miss  Carnegie. 

"  Truth's  nae  slander,"  and  Kildrum- 
mie  watched  Carmichael  with  a  relish; 
"  a'  thocht  ye  wud  hae  got  a  taste  o'  her 
in  the  Glen.  Didna  a'  heer  frae  Piggie 
Walker  that  ye  ca'd  her  Jezebel  frae  yir 
ain  pulpit,  an'  that  ma  lady  whuppit  oot 
o'  the  kirk  in  the  middle  o'  the  sermon?  " 

"  I  did  nothing  of  the  kind,  and 
Walker  is  a  .   .   ." 

"  Piggie's  no  very  particular  at  a 
time,"  admitted  Kildrummie;  "maybe 
it's  a  makup  the  story  aboot  Miss  Car- 
negie an'  yirsel'. 

"  Accordin'  tae  the  wratch,"  for  Car- 


202  RABBI   SAUNDERSON. 

michael  would  deign  no  reply,  "  she  wes 
threatenin'  tae  mak'  a  fule  o'  the  Free 
Kirk  minister  o'  Drumtochty  juist  for 
practice,  but  a'  said,  '  Na,  na,  Piggie, 
Maister  Carmichael  is  ower  quiet  and 
sensible  a  lad.  He  kens  as  weel  as  ony- 
body  that  a  Carnegie  wud  never  dae  for 
a  minister's  wife.  Gin  ye  said  a  Bailie's 
dochter  frae  Muirtown  'at  hes  some 
money  comin'  tae  her  and  kens  the  prin- 
ciples o'  the  Free  Kirk.' 

*'  Noo  a'  can  speak  frae  experience, 
having  been  terrible  fortunate  wi'  a'  ma 
wives.  .  .  Ye'll  come  up  tae  tea;  we 
killed  a  pig  yesterday,  and.  .  .  Weel, 
weel,  a  wilfu'  man  maun  hae  his  wy"; 
and  Carmichael,  as  he  made  his  way  up 
the  hill,  felt  that  the  hand  of  Providence 
was  heavy  upon  him,  and  that  any  high- 
mindedness  was  being  severely  chas- 
tened. 


LIGHT   AT   EVENTIDE.  203 

Two  days  Carmichael  tramped  the 
moors,  returning  each  evening  wet, 
weary,  hungry,  to  sleep  ten  hours  with- 
out turning,  and  on  the  morning  of  the 
thi/d  day  he  came  down  in  such  heart 
that  Sarah  wondered  whether  he  could 
have  received  a  letter  by  special  messen- 
ger; and  he  congratulated  himself,  as  he 
walked  round  his  garden,  that  he  had 
overcome  by  sheer  will  power  the  first 
real  infatuation  of  his  life.  He  was  so 
lifted  above  all  sentiment  as  to  review  his 
temporary  folly  from  the  bare,  serene 
heights  of  common  sense.  Miss  Car- 
negie was  certainly  not  an  heiress,  and 
she  was  a  young  woman  of  very  decided 
character,  but  her  blood  was  better  than 
the  Hays',  and  she  was  .  .  .  attractive^ — 
yes,  attractive.  Most  likely  she  was 
engaged  to  Lord  Hay,  or  if  he  did  not 
please  her — she  was  .  .  .  whimsical  and 


204  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

.  .  .  self-willed — there  was  Lord  Inver- 
mays'  son.  Fancy  Kate  .  .  .  Miss  Car- 
negie in  a  Free  Kirk  manse — Kildrum- 
mie  was  a  very  .  .  .  homely  old  man, 
but  he  touched  the  point  there — receiv- 
ing Dr.  Dowbiggin  with  becoming  cere- 
mony and  hearing  him  on  the  payment 
of  probationers,  or  taking  tea  at  Kil- 
drummie  Manse — where  he  had,  how- 
ever, feasted  royally  many  a  time  after 
the  Presbytery,  but.  .  .  This  daugh- 
ter of  a  Jacobite  house,  and  brought  up 
amid  the  romance  of  war,  settling  down 
in  the  narrowest  circle  of  Scottish  life — 
as  soon  imagine  an  eagle  domesticated 
among  barn-door  poultry.  This  image 
amused  Carmichael  so  much  that  he 
could  have  laughed  aloud,  but  .  .  .  the 
village  might  have  heard  him.  He  only 
stretched  himself  like  one  awaking,  and 
felt  so  strong  that  he  resolved  to  drop  in 


LIGHT   AT   EVENTIDE.  205 

on  Janet  Macpherson,  Kate's  old  re- 
tainer— to  see  hoAv  it  fared  with  the  old 
woman  and  ...  to  have  Miss  Car- 
negie's engagement  confirmed.  The 
Carifiegies  might  return  any  day  from  the 
South,  and  it  would  be  well  that  he 
should  know  how  to  meet  them. 

"  You  will  be  hearing,"  Janet  men- 
tioned, "  that  they  hef  come  back  to  the 
Lodge  yesterday  morning,  and  it  iss  my- 
self that  will  be  glad  to  see  Miss  Kate 
again;  and  very  pretty  iss  she  looking, 
with  peautiful  dresses  and  bonnets, 
for  I  hef  seen  them  all,  maybe  twelve  or 
ten. 

"  Oh,  yes,  my  dear,  Donald  will  be 
talking  about  her  marriage  to  Lord  Kil- 
'spindie's  son,  who  iss  a  very  handsome 
young  man  and  good  at  the  shooting; 
and  he  will  be  blowing  that  they  will  live 
at  the  Lodge  in  great  state,  with  many 


2o6  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

gillies  and  a  piper  and  he  will  be  head  of 
them  all. 

"  No,  it  iss  not  Janet  Macpherson,  my 
dear,  that  will  be  believing  Donald 
Cameron,  any  Cameron — although  I  am 
not  saying  that  the  Camerons  are  not 
men  of  their  hands — for  Donald  will  be 
always  making  great  stories  and  telling 
me  wonderful  things.  He  wass  a  brave 
man  in  the  battle,  and  iss  very  clever  at 
the  doctrine  too,  and  will  be  strong 
against  human  himes  [hymns],  but  he 
iss  a  most  awful  liar  iss  Donald  Cameron, 
and  you  must  not  be  believing  a  word 
that  comes  out  of  his  mouth. 

"  She  will  be  asking  many  questions  in 
her  room  as  soon  as  Donald  had  brought 
up  her  boxes  and  the  door  was  shut. 
Some  will  be  about  the  Glen,  and  some 
about  the  garden,  and  some  will  be  about 
people — whether  you  ever  will  be  visit- 


LIGHT   AT   EVENTIDE.  207 

ing  me,  and  whether  you  asked  for  her 
after  the  day  she  left  the  kirk.  But  I 
will  say,  '  No;  Mr.  Carmichael  does  not 
speak  about  anything  but  the  religion 
when  he  comes  to  my  cottage.' 

"  That  iss  nothing.  I  will  be  saying 
more,  that  I  am  hearing  that  the  minis- 
ter iss  to  be  married  to  a  fery  rich  young 
lady  in  Muirtown  who  hass  been  court- 
ing him  for  two  years,  and  that  her 
father  will  be  giving  the  minister  twenty 
thousand  pounds  the  day  they  are 
married.  And  I  will  say  she  iss  very 
beautiful,  with  blue  eyes  and  gold  hair, 
and  that  her  temper  iss  so  sweet  they  are 
calling  her  the  Angel  of  Muirtown. 

"  Toot,  toot,  my  dear,  you  are  not  to 
be  speaking  about  lies,  for  that  iss  not  a 
pretty  word  among  friends,  and  you  will 
not  be  meddling  with  me,  for  you  will  be 
better  at  the  preaching  and  the  singing 


2o8  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

of  himes  than  dealing  with  women.  It 
iss  not  good  to  be  making  yourself  too 
common,  and  Miss  Kate  will  be  thinking 
the  more  of  you  if  you  be  holding  your 
head  high  and  letting  her  see  that  you 
are  not  a  poor  lowland  body,  but  a  Far- 
quharson  by  your  mother's  side,  and 
maybe  of  the  chief's  blood,  though 
twenty  or  fifteen  times  removed. 

"  She  will  be  very  pleased  to  hear  such 
good  news  of  you,  and  be  saying  that  it 
iss  a  mercy  you  are  getting  somebody  to 
dress  you  properly.  But  her  temper  will 
not  be  at  all  good,  and  I  did  not  ask  her 
about  Lord  Hay,  and  she  said  nothing 
to  me,  nor  about  any  other  lord.  It  iss 
not  often  I  hef  seen  as  great  a  liar  as 
Donald  Cameron. 

"  Last  evening  Miss  Kate  will  come 
down  before  dinner  and  talk  about  many 
things,  and  then  she  will  say  at  the  door, 


LIGHT   AT   EVENTIDE.  209 

■*  Donald  tells  me  that  Mister  Carmichael 
does  not  believe  in  the  Bible,  and  that 
his  friend,  Dr.  Saunderson,  has  cast  him 
off,  and  that  he  has  been  punished  by  his 
Bishop  or  somebody  at  Muirtown.' 

'"'  Donald  will  be  knowing  more  doc- 
trine and  telling  more  lies  every  month,' 
I  said  to  her.  '  Dr.  Saunderson — who 
is  a  very  fine  preacher  and  can  put  the 
fear  of  God  upon  the  people  most  won- 
derful— and  our  minister  had  a  little 
feud,  and  they  will  fight  it  out  before 
some  chiefs  at  Muirtown  like  gentlemen, 
and  now  they  are  good  friends  again.' 

"  Miss  Kate  had  gone  off  for  a  long 
walk,  and  I  am  not  saying  but  that  she 
will  be  calling  at  Kilbogie  Manse  before 
she  comes  back.  She  is  very  fond  of 
Dr.  Saunderson,  and  maybe  he  will  be 
telling  her  of  the  feud.  It  iss  more  than 
an  hour  through  the  woods  to  Kilbogie," 


2IO  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

concluded  Janet,  "  but  you  will  be  hav- 
ing a  glass  of  milk  first." 

Kate  reviewed  her  reasons  for  the  ex- 
pedition to  Kilbogie,  and  settled  they 
were  the  pleasures  of  a  walk  through 
Tochty  woods  when  the  spring  flowers 
were  in  their  glory,  and  a  visit  to  one  of 
the  dearest  curiosities  she  had  ever  seen. 
It  was  within  the  bounds  of  possibility 
that  Dr.  Saunderson  might  refer  to  his 
friend,  but  on  her  part  she  would  cer- 
tainly not  refer  to  the  Free  Church  min- 
ister of  Drumtochty.  Her  reception  by 
that  conscientious  professor  Barbara 
could  not  be  called  encouraging. 

"  Ay,  he's  in,  but  ye  canna  see  him,  for 
he's  in  his  bed,  and  gin  he  disna  mend 
faster  than  he  wes  daein'  the  last  time  a' 
gied  him  a  cry,  he's  no  like  to  be  in  the 
pulpit  on  Sabbath.  A'  wes  juist  thinkin' 
he  wudna  be  the  waur  o'  a  doctor." 


LIGHT    AT   EVENTIDE.  2U 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Dr. 
Saunderson  is  lying  ill  and  no  one 
nursing  him? "  and  Kate  eyed  the 
housekeeper  in  a  very  unappreciative 
fashiop. 

"  Gin  he  wants  a  nurse  she'll  hae  tae 
be  brocht  frae  Muirtown  Infirmary,  for 
a've  eneuch  to  dae  withoot  ony  fyke 
[delicate  work]  o'  that  kind.  For  twal 
year  hev  a'  been  hoosekeeper  in  this 
manse,  an'  gin  it  hedna  been  for  peety 
a'  wad  hae  flung  up  the  place. 

"  Ye  never  cud  tell  when  he  wud  come 
in,  or  when  he  wud  gae  oot,  or  what  he 
wud  be  wantin'  next.  A'  the  waufies 
[disreputable  people]  in  the  countryside 
come  here,  and  the  best  in  the  hoose  is 
no  gude  eneucti  for  them.  He's  been  an 
awfu'  handfu'  tae  me,  an'  noo  a'  coont 
him  clean  dottle  [silly].  But  we  maun 
juist  bear  oor  burdens,"  concluded  Bar- 


212  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

bara  piously,  and  she  proposed  to  close 
the  door. 

"  Your  master  will  not  want  a  nurse  a 
minute  longer;  show  me  his  room  at 
once";  and  Kate  was  so  commanding- 
that  Barbara's  courage  began  to  fail. 

"  Wha  may  ye  be,"  raising  her  voice 
to  rally  her  heart,  "  'at  wud  take  chairge 
o'  a  strainger  in  his  ain  hoose  an'  no  sae 
muckle  as  ask  leave?  " 

"  I  am  Miss  Carnegie,  of  Tochty 
Lodge;  will  you  stand  out  of  my  way?  " 
and  Kate  swept  past  Barbara  and  went 
upstairs. 

"  Weel,  a'  declare,"  as  soon  as  she  had 
recovered,  "  of  a'  the  impudent  hizzies  "; 
but  Barbara  did  not  say  this  in  Kate's 
hearing. 

Kate  had  seen  various  curious  hos- 
pitals in  her  day,  and  had  nursed  many 
sick  men — like  the  brave  girl  she  was — 


LIGHT    AT   EVENTIDE.  213 

but  the  Rabbi's  room  was  something 
quite  new.  His  favorite  books  had  been 
gathering  there  for  years,  and  now  lined 
two  walls  and  overhung  the  bed  after  a 
ver^y  perilous  fashion  and  had  dispos- 
sessed  the  looking-glass — which  had  be- 
come a  nomad  and  was  at  present  resting 
insecurely  on  John  Owen — and  stood  in 
banks  round  the  bed.  During  his  few 
days  of  illness  the  Rabbi  had  accumu- 
lated so  many  volumes  round  him  that 
he  lay  in  a  kind  of  tunnel,  arched  over,  as 
it  were,  with  literature.  He  had  been 
reading  Calvin's  "  Commentary  on  the 
Psalms,"  in  Latin,  and  it  still  lay  open  at 
the  88th,  the  saddest  of  all  songs  in  the 
Psalter;  but  as  he  grew  weaker  the 
heavy  folio  had  slid  forward,  and  he 
seemed  to  be  feeling  for  it.  Although 
Kate  spoke  to  him  by  name,  he  did  not 
know  anyone  was  in  the  room.     "  Lord, 


214  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

why  castest  Thou  off  my  soul?  ...  I 
suffer  Thy  terror,  I  am  distracted  .  .  . 
fierce  wrath  goeth  over  me  .  .  .  lover 
and  friend  hast  Thou  put  far  from  me 
.  .  .  friend  far  from  me." 

His  head  fell  on  his  breast,  his  breath 
was  short  and  rapid,  and  he  coughed 
every  few  seconds. 

"  My  friend  far  from  me.  .  ." 

At  the  sorrow  in  his  voice  and  the 
thing  which  he  said  the  tears  came  to 
Kate's  eyes,  and  she  went  forward  and 
spoke  to  him  very  gently.  "  Do  you 
know  me.  Dr.  Saunderson — Miss  Car- 
negie? " 

"  Not  Saunderson  .  .  .  Magor  Missa- 
bib." 

"  Rabbi,  Rabbi '' — so  much  Carmi- 
chael  had  told  her;  and  now  Kate 
stroked  the  bent  white  head.  "  Your 
friend.  Mister  Carmichael " 


LIGHT   AT   EVENTIDE.  215 

"  Yes,  yes  " — he  now  looked  up  and 
spoke    eagerly — "  John    Carmichael,    of 
Drumtochty  ...  my  friend  in  my  old 
age  .  .  .  and  others  ...  my  boys  .  .  . 
bijt  John  has  left  me  .   .  .  he  would  not 
speak  to  me    ...  I  am  alone  now  .  .  . 
he    did    not    understand  .  .  .  mine    ac- 
quaintance into  darkness  .  .  .  here  we 
see  in  a  glass  darkly  .  .  ."  (he  turned 
aside  to  expound  the  Greek  word  for 
darkly),    "  but    some   day  .  .  .  face    to 
face."     And  twice  he  said  it,  with  an  in- 
describable sweetness,  "  face  to  face." 

Kate  hurriedly  removed  the  books 
from  the  bed  and  wrapt  round  his  shoul- 
ders the  old  gray  plaid  that  had  eked  out 
his  covering  at  night,  and  then  she  went 
downstairs. 

"  Bring,"  she  said  to  Barbara,  "  hot 
water,  soap,  towels,  and  a  sponge  to  Dr. 
Saunderson's  bedroom,  immediately." 


2i6  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

"  And  gin  a'  dinna?  "  inquired  Bar- 
bara aggressively. 

"  I'll  shoot  you  where  you  stand." 

Barbara  shows  tO'  her  cronies  how 
Miss  Carnegie  drew  a  pistol  from  her 
pocket  at  this  point  and  held  it  to  her 
head,  and  how  at  every  turn  the  pistol 
was  again  in  evidence;  sometimes  a  dag- 
ger is  thrown  in,  but  that  is  only  late  in 
the  evening  when  Barbara  is  under  the 
influence  of  tonics.  Kate  herself  admits 
that  if  she  had  had  her  little  revolver 
with  her  she  might  have  been  tempted 
to  outline  the  housekeeper's  face  on  the 
wall,  and  she  still  thinks  her  threat  an 
inspiration. 

"  Now,"  said  Kate,  when  Barbara  had 
brought  her  commands  in  with  incredi- 
ble celerity,  "  bring  up  some  fresh  milk 
and  three  glasses  of  whisky." 

"Whisky!"     Barbara    could     hardly 


LIGHT    AT   EVENTIDE.  217 

compass  the  unfamiliar  word.  "  The 
Doctor  never  hed  sic  a  thing  in  the 
hoo'se,  although  mony  a  time,  puir  man 
.  .  ."  Discipline  was  softening  even 
thaV  austere  spirit. 

"  No,  but  you  have,  for  you  are  blow- 
ing a  full  gale  just  now;  bring  up  your 
private  bottle,  or  I'll  go  down  for  it. 

"  There's  enough,"  holding  the  bottle 
to  the  light,  "  to  do  till  evening;  go  to 
the  next  farm  and  send  a  man  on  horse- 
back to  tell  Mr.  Carmichael,  of  Drum- 
tochty,  that  Dr.  Saunderson  is  dying, 
and  another  for  Dr.  Manley  of  Muir- 
town." 

Very  tenderly  did  Kate  sponge  the 
Rabbi's  face  and  hands,  and  then  she 
dressed  his  hair,  till  at  length  he  came  to 
himself. 

"  This  ministry  is  .  .  .  grateful  to  me, 
Barbara  ...  my  strength  has  gone  from 


2i8  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

me  .  .  .  but  my  eyes  fail  me.  .  .  Of 
a  verity  you  are  not  .  .  ." 

"  I  am  Kate  Carnegie,  whom  you  were 
so  kind  to  at  Tochty.  Will  you  let  me 
be  your  nurse?  I  learned  in  India,  and 
know  what  to  do."  It  was  only  wounded 
soldiers  who  knew  how"  gentle  her  voice 
could  be,  and  how  soft  her  hands. 

"  It  is  I  that  .  .  .  should  be  serving 
you  .  .  .  the  first  time  you  have  come 
to  the  manse  ...  no  woman  has  ever 
done  me  .  .  .  such  kindness  before.  .  ." 
He  followed  her  as  she  tried  to  bring 
some  order  out  of  chaos,  and  knew  not 
that  he  spoke  aloud.  "  A  gracious  maid 
.  .  .  above  rubies." 

His  breathing  was  growing  worse,  in 
spite  of  many  wise  things  she  did  for  him 
— Dr.  Manley,  who  paid  no  compli- 
ments, but  was  a  strength  unto  every 
country    doctor    in    Perthshire,    praises 


LIGHT    AT   EVENTIDE.  219 

Kate  unto  this  day — and  the  Rabbi  did 
not  care  to  speak.  So  she  sat  down  by 
his  side  and  read  to  him  from  the  "  Pil- 
grim's Progress  " — holding  his  hand  all 
thg  time — and  the  passage  he  desired 
was  the  story  of  Mr.  Fearing. 

"  This  I  took  very  great  notice  of,  that 
the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  Death  was  as 
quiet  while  he  went  through  it  as  ever  I 
knew^  it  before  or  since.  I  suppose  these 
enemies  here  had  now  a  special  check 
from  our  Lord  and  a  command  not  to 
meddle  until  Mr.  Fearing  was  passed 
over  it.  .  .  Here  also  I  took  notice  of 
what  was  very  remarkable:  the  water  of 
that  river  was  lower  at  this  time  than 
ever  I  saw  it  in  all  my  life.  So  he  went 
over  at  last,  not  much  above  wet-shod. 
When  he  was  going  up  to  the  gate  .  .  ." 

The  Rabbi  listened  for  an  instant. 

"  It    is    John's    step  ...  he    hath    a 


220  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

sound  of  his  own  .  .  .  my  only  earthly 
desire  is  fulfilled." 

"  Rabbi,"  cried  Carmichael,  and  half 
kneeling,  he  threw  one  arm  round  the 
old  man,  "  say  that  you  forgive  me.     I 
looked  for  you  everywhere  on  Monday,  : 
but  you  could  not  be  found." 

"  Did  you  think,  John,  that  I  ...  my 
will  was  to  do  you  an  injury  or  .  .  .  vex 
your  soul?  Many  trials  in  my  life  .  .  . 
all  God's  will  .  .  .  but  this  hardest  .  .  . 
when  I  lost  you  .  .  .  nothing  left  here 
.  .  .  but  you  .  .  . — my  breath  is 
bad,  a  little  chill — .  .  .  do  you  under- 
stand? " 

"  I  always  did,  and  I  never  respected 
you  more;  it  was  my  foolish  pride  that 
made  me  call  you  Dr.  Saunderson  in  the 
study;  but  my  love  was  the  same,  and 
now  you  will  let  me  stay  and  wait  on 
you." 


HE  SIGNED  FOR  HER  HAND,  WHICH  HE  KEPT  TO  THE  END 


LIGHT   AT   EVENTIDE.  223 

The  old  man  smiled  sadly,  and  laid  his 
hand  on  his  boy's  head. 

"  I  cannot  let  you  .  .  .  go,  John,  my 
son." 

"Kao  and  leave  you,  Rabbi!"  Carmi- 
chael  tried  to  laugh.  "  Not  till  you  are 
ready  to  appear  at  the  Presbytery  again. 
We'll  send  Barbara  away  for  a  holiday, 
and  Sarah  will  take  her  place — you  re- 
member that  cream — and  we  shall  have  a 
royal  time,  a  meal  every  four  hours, 
Rabbi,  and  the  Fathers  in  between"; 
and  Carmichael,  springing  to  his  feet  and 
turning  round  to  hide  his  tears,  came 
face  to  face  with  Miss  Carnegie,  who  had 
been  unable  to  escape  from  the  room. 

"  I  happened  to  call" — Kate  was  quite 
calm — "  and  found  Dr.  Saunderson  in 
bed;  so  I  stayed  till  some  friend  should 
come ;  you  must  have  met  the  messenger 
I  sent  for  you." 


224  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

"  Yes,  a  mile  from  the  manse;  I  was 
on  my  way  .  .  .  Janet  said  .  .  .  but  I 
.  .  .  did  not  remember  anything  when  I 
saw  the  Rabbi." 

"  Will  you  take  a  little  milk  again  .  .  . 
Rabbi?"  and  at  her  bidding  and  the 
name  he  made  a  brave  effort  to  swallow, 
but  he  was  plainly  sinking. 

"No  more,"  he  whispered;  "thank 
you  .  .  .  for  service  .  .  .  to  a  lonely  man ; 
may  God  bless  you  .  .  .  both.  .  .  ." 
He  signed  for  her  hand,  which  he  kept  to 
the  end. 

"  Satisfied  .  ,  .  read,  John  .  .  .  the 
woman  from  coasts  of — of " 

"  I  know,  Rabbi,"  and  kneeling  on  the 
other  side  of  the  bed,  he  read  the  stor>' 
slowly  of  a  Tyrian  woman's  faith. 

"  It  is  not  meet  to  take  the  children's 
meat  and  cast  it  to  dogs." 

"  Dogs  " — they  heard  the  Rabbi  ap- 


'      LIGHT   AT   EVENTIDE.  225 

propriate  his  name — "outside  .  .  .  the 
covenant." 

"  And  she  said,  Truth,  Lord,  yet  the 
dogs  eat  of  the  crumbs  which  fall  from 
their  master's  table." 

""  Lord,  I  believe  .  .  .  help  Thou 
mine  .  .  .  unbelief." 

He  then  fell  into  an  agony  of  soul, 
during  which  Carmichael  could  hear: 
"  Though  .  .  .  He  slay  .  .  .  me  .  .  .  yet 
will  I  trust  .  .  .  trust  ...  in  Him." 
He  drew  two  or  three  long  breaths  and 
was  still.  After  a  little  he  was  heard 
again  with  a  new  note — "  He  that  be- 
lieveth  ...  in  Him  .  .  .  shall  not  be 
confounded,"  and  again,  "  A  bruised 
reed  .  .  .  shall  He  not  .  .  ."  Then  he 
opened  his  eyes  and  raised  his  head — but 
he  saw  neither  Kate  nor  Carmichael,  for 
the  Rabbi  had  done  with  earthly  friends 
and    earthly    trials — and    he,    who    had 


226  RABBI    SAUNDERSON. 

walked  in  darkness  and  seen  no  light, 
said  in  a  clear  voice  full  of  joy,  "My 
Lord,  and  my  God." 

It  was  Kate  who  closed  his  eyes  and 
laid  the  old  scholar's  head  on  the  pillow, 
and  then  she  left  the  room,  casting  one 
swift  glance  of  pity  at  Carmichael,  who 
was  weeping  bitterly  and  crying  between 
the  sobs,  "Rabbi!  Rabbi!" 


THE    END. 


/ 


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SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILm 


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